Paved With Good Intentions
by Aishuu
Summary: Complete Kirihara and Sengoku inadvertently start a divine war over a college math class, dragging in other devils, angels and mortals in a scheme that involves lust, sex, Machiavellian plots and alcohol. And that's only what the angels are up to...
1. A Devil and an Angel Walk Into a Bar

**Paved with Good Intentions**  
by Surefall and Aishuu  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part One Summary: _In Which math class reminds a devil of home and a devil and angel kick the whole mess off by walking into a bar together._

* * *

Being a demon sucked when your mission forced you to enroll in college mathematics. Kirihara Akaya normally would have been falling asleep in math class, since it reminded him too much of home -- it was boring as Hell. However, the presence of another divine being danced along his senses, and it was impossible for him to relax enough to snooze.  
  
Looking over his shoulder every five minutes or so was an angel, and it was all he could do not to call down lightning or find a telemarketer to plague the annoying creature.  
  
Math was clearly designed by god. All the inner workings, the simplification of equations, the true delight of discovering that even irrational numbers had a part in the grand design of electricity ... Sengoku was more than pleased to be assigned to this particular mission. Who knew college could be so interesting?  
  
Not to mention there was this demon sitting _right_ in front of him that happened to have all the notes scribbled on the pages resting just beneath his sleeping head. Sengoku grinned and leaned farther forward to copy a few of the middle lines.  
  
Kirihara gritted his teeth, reminding himself not to blow his cover by summoning a plague. Around them, class continued at a low throb, unaware of the minor divine conflict that was going on.  
  
"Could you tilt your head to the left?" Sengoku asked.  
  
Kirihara deliberately moved his head to the right.  
  
That worked, too. Sengoku scribbled industriously.  
  
Kirihara gritted his teeth, before leaning back to stretch, in the process knocking Sengoku's hand and causing the angel to draw a huge line through his somewhat neat notes.  
  
"Dyam" There was a scrubbing sound as Sengoku picked up his eraser and started rubbing out what he could of the line. He reached over when he was done and tugged on a lock of Kirihara's hair, "What do you say?"  
  
"Let go, you bastard!" he hissed, "or else I'll make you say some things you'd never imagine would pass your lips."  
  
"Really?" Sengoku was intrigued. "What would those be?" He tugged on the silken, black lock again, curling it around a finger.  
  
Kirihara's arm swung around and caught Sengoku across the face, his natural instincts finally letting loose. The loud "crack" echoed through the room, and the hundred-odd students and one professor stared at them in horror. Next to them, Kamio Akira looked at them with scorn, while Saeki Kojiroh just seemed amused - even though Sengoku had been pushed into his lap.  
  
"Ouch," happened to be Sengoku's brilliant reply to getting smacked hard enough to go sprawling between the seats. An arm waved into view, "I'm okay!" He flashed a thumbs up at Saeki before clambering over his sorta friend to get back to his seat, rubbing his reddening cheek a little. It would figure that he would have to get hit by a devil instead of a human ... this one was going to leave a bruise.  
  
"That wasn't very nice," he informed Kirihara.  
  
"You expect me to be?" Kirihara asked in disbelief. As surely as he'd recognized Sengoku, Sengoku must have recognized him. He didn't think Sengoku was one of those "believe the best in everyone!" angels like Ohtori Choutarou, but he guessed he could be wrong.  
  
"Well, no ... but one hopes you would keep up a nice face in front of yanno, the class," Sengoku replied. One got the feeling he meant to say 'mortals' instead of 'class'. It would seem this particular demon was bit unrestrained. Really, he had expected better considering the last representative of evil he had encountered was Fuji.  
  
"Speaking of the class..." a third voice inserted chillingly, and the two divine beings were forced away from their conversation to look up into the implacable eyes of the professor. Sakaki Tarou was a tall man, and had Kirihara not known better, he would have sworn that he was a higher-ranking power for one of their sides instead of a mere mortal.  
  
"Eh heh heh ... " Sengoku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Oops?" He was forced to agree with Kirihara. Some humans were very scary, especially when they started to stare at the two of them with an especially evil eye. Decidedly ominous.  
  
Sakaki, ignoring all rules of decorum, quietly shut both of their notebooks for them. "I suggest you find somewhere else to continue this discussion. The next time this happens, you won't be allowed to return."  
  
No more math? He was crushed ! Sengoku shot Kirihara a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. Next time the demon was going to get his mouth duct taped. Tossing a glance at Saeki that said 'take notes for me', Sengoku calmly gathered up his books and bowed to Sakaki, "Yes, sir."  
  
Kirihara could frankly care less about missing math class, but many of the people who'd he decided on dragging down into the delights of evil were in said class. He'd pinned about twenty good candidates, and being denied access would be extremely annoying. "Fine, fine," he muttered.  
  
The path from Sengoku's seat to the doors was filled with idle thoughts of why Kirihara, a demon, would be doing something constructive like actually attending class. Most demons sent to a college were more of the party type, seduction through 'far too much fun'. Kirihara didn't seem to fall quite so neatly into that category. Tilting his head thoughtfully, Sengoku pushed the door open and slipped out into the hallway.  
  
Kirihara, trailing close behind, was caught between a rock and a hard place. Now that he had the angel alone, he was obligated to either try to seduce him or destroy him. He was quite sure, however, that the students would notice any hell hounds he let loose, and he didn't like Sengoku enough to try to seduce him. It would be downright distasteful.  
  
Sengoku tossed a grin over his shoulder at Kirihara, "Did you want to go somewhere so you can take a couple pot shots at me?"  
  
"How about a quick trip to hell?" Kirihara suggested brightly.  
  
"Really? Can we visit Fuji-kun?"  
  
Kirihara blinked. "You... you know Fuji?" he asked, a bit taken aback. It was natural enough; an angel on good enough terms to call the Lord of Evil "Fuji-kun" was something he'd never heard of before.  
  
Sengoku wagged a hand, "Who doesn't know of Fuji?" No one said that he was on good terms, per se ... but Fuji did happen to be a very good conversationalist and was the man to go to for the witty stab in the back. There was never a dull moment when facing off against Fuji.  
  
"Anyone who wants to remain pure and virtuous?" Kirihara returned. He stared at Sengoku in amazement, unsure of exactly what kind of angel he had on his hands.  
  
Angels, to his mind, were all dreadfully alike. There were the innocent ones, like Ohtori (who really had no clue about anything except the Greater Good); the redeemed ones who never stopped angsting over their past sins, like Shishido (one of the top-ten wanted traitors, because before he'd repented, he'd been quite high on Hell's ladder); the holier-than-thou ones like Tezuka (someone needed to corrupt him, but word was out that Fuji considered Tezuka a personal project) and the sweet ones, like Yukimura. He'd never heard of an insane angel before...  
  
"Who wants to remain pure and virtuous? It sounds like too much effort," Sengoku replied with a grin. There was nothing quite like holding a discussion with a demon about the merits of virtue and purity.  
  
This was just too damn easy, Kirihara thought. He'd never tempted an angel into sin before, but this would be like taking candy from a child (a favorite part-time). "Really? Then are you up for a trip to the bar tonight? I'll buy you a drink, and we'll forget about this little incident," he suggested.  
  
Sengoku nodded amicably, "Sounds good. I knew you were a sweet 'un. Where do you wanna go?"

* * *

It definitely wasn't a place a person would ever expect to see an angel, but that was exactly why Oishi Syuuchirou was there. The bar, known simply as The Lounge, was a popular place for students from the nearby university to hang out. Its business tended to ebb and flow along with the main testing schedules.  
  
Oishi had gotten a job as a bartender right before the most recent session of classes, posing as a graduate student who was taking a semester off the earn more money. His assignment, one Ibu Shinji, drank too much for anyone's comfort, and more than once he'd been required to pour the boy into a cab to make sure he'd get safely home.  
  
Still, Oishi loved his job, because there were so many people who he could help with just a word or an indication that someone cared. A bar really was better than a psychologist's office, since people expected the bartender to be a free counselor.  
  
The Lounge was Ibu Shinji's lair of choice after, well, any day at all lately. School was the pits, though it hadn't always been. Home was the pits, which was actually to be expected. His love life ... his /love/ life ... that was a whole another story all together. For that he needed another beer before he felt capable of tackling it.  
  
Oozing low on his seat, Shinji pushed a bit of money across the counter and mumbled a brief, "One more beer, Oishi-san ... not that I really need a beer ... but it has a lovely taste and makes the world seem so much nicer ... there's a lot of annoying people out there, yanno. I can't stand anyone, not a one of them, especially not that one that really annoys me, you know the one ... "  
  
Oishi could tell that Shinji still wasn't completely drunk, as his words still were slurred. Beer seemed to have an inverse relationship with Shinji's speaking abilities -- the more he drank, the more elucidate his speech became.  
  
"Just one," Oishi warned as he drew a foaming pint, even though he didn't really have the heart to cut anyone off. If they really felt the need to drink that badly, well, it would be mean to stop them.  
  
That happened to be why Shinji kept coming back to The Lounge. Oishi could be trusted to only make lip motions when standing between Shinji and his much needed liquor. Shinji could handle that, it was pretty easy to just ignore Oishi when the time came to drink himself under the table.  
  
Shinji pulled the glass close and sucked the foam off the top, licking his lips with a certain satisfaction. He lifted the glass in cheers to Oishi and took a long swallow, thumping it back down on the bar hard enough to make it slosh over the sides. He didn't care really, he could always buy another beer.  
  
Oishi sighed, knowing he would have to clean up the mess. "Ibu-san... do you want to talk about it?" he asked, staring at what was a once immaculately clean bar,  
  
Shinji blinked owlishly and managed a succinct, "No," before taking another long swallow.  
  
Which really meant "yes." Shinji hadn't rambled at the end of his answer, so he was about drunk enough for Oishi's purposes. "Are things okay with your roommate?" Oishi said gently, knowing he was about to unleash a flood.  
  
Shinji thumped his pint just to thump something since something needed to be thumped. It was that or thump An, the no good two bit _bitch_ who was -- Shinji scowled sullenly at Oishi, "Things are just fine. Kamio and I are getting along just fine."  
  
Oishi felt like he was slamming his angelic head into a wall. Talking to Shinji was like dealing with a wounded lion, and he knew that it would probably be a while before the boy was ready to open up to him. Laying the groundwork now would be beneficial later, but he felt like he was waltzing on a tightrope. One wrong move, and... well, it wouldn't be pretty.  
  
"That's good. If... if you do need to talk to someone, let me know, okay? You don't even have to buy any -- "  
  
Oishi's words were interrupted by the sound of the bar door slamming open, and two extremely loud creatures wandering in.  
  
Shinji craned his head to glance over his shoulder, only to recognize those two guys who had made the disturbance in math class that day. "Hmph. They're always so loud ... don't they know people are trying to drink in here?" he mumbled, hunching more firmly over his beer in case they tried to steal it. One could never tell with Sengoku and Kirihara.  
  
Sengoku waved madly at Oishi from the doorway as he trotted inside, "Oishi-san! It's been ages! I want something tastelessly American!" With that demand in place, he thumped down at the bar two seats from Shinji, tactically ignoring his presence.  
  
Oishi stared in alarm at Sengoku and Kirihara. Whenever an angel and devil associated, it only led to trouble, and usually heartbreak. However, with Shinji present, he couldn't say anything that would disclosed their secrets. "You saw me yesterday," Oishi said lamely, unable to think of anything else to say that wouldn't be a dead-giveaway.  
  
Kirihara squinted at Oishi like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "What are you doing here?" he asked rudely.  
  
"Well, it felt like ages," Sengoku responded blithely. Shinji just muttered something rude into his cup about Sengoku and horrifying taste in drinks, not to mention manners.  
  
Oishi was unable to take his eyes off the demon. "I... I..." he stuttered, feeling thrown off balance. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by one of Hell's minions, because that would invariably lead to problems he just didn't want to deal with -- one problem in particular.  
  
"Get me some tequila, and leave the bottle," Kirihara ordered. His eyes danced wickedly. "Oishi-san." He drawled the angel's name, making it quite clear that he'd recognized him.  
  
"He recognizes you and not me I feel so unloved" Sengoku mourned with drama, looping an arm around Kirihara's shoulders, "But we'll get to know each other real well, won't we?" Sengoku smiled at him brilliantly, while idly wondering if there was a way to erase Oishi from Kirihara's memory so he wouldn't lose the best bartender he ever had. Probably couldn't be done. Alas. He wept for his loss.  
  
"Oh, quite well," Kirihara returned.  
  
Oishi stared at the two, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. This was so many shades of not good. "Sengoku-san..." he started, but was distracted by the sight of Shinji rising clumsily to his feet and making for the restroom. "Oh, dear." Oishi scurried after him.  
  
"I can go to the bathroom myself, Oishi-san," Shinji grumped, shutting the door firmly in Oishi's face.  
  
Since Oishi forgot to produce the liquor, Sengoku merrily slithered over the bar and began picking through the bottles, holding them up at random to peer at the liquid within, "I think this is tequila." he said and plunked a bottle in front of Kirihara.  
  
Kirihara took a sip of it cautiously, and the throat-scalding liquor made him wince. "You idiot! That's vodka!" Despite his protest, he continued to drink. With his earthly body, it was hard to get drunk, but that never stopped him from trying.  
  
"Details, details. It's all liquid rot anyway." With this unpleasant observation, Sengoku shook up a mix of grenadine, jack, and coke before pouring it in a tall glass for his personal consumption. He knocked the glass back and thumped it back down on the counter with a satisfied, "Ahh"  
  
"Sengoku! Get out from there!" Oishi yelled from across the room, bringing all eyes to the redhead.  
  
Sengoku blinks his patented 'who me?' look while pointing at himself, "But Oishi-san ..... "  
  
"Are you even going to pay this time? Do you know how big your tab has gotten?" Oishi sounded thoroughly harassed, and not about to buy the "cute l'il ol' me" act. The sound of Shinji being sick and his inability to help him made Oishi irritable.  
  
"Pay? What is this pay you speak of?" Sengoku slid out of reach, and back over the bar to sit behind Kirihara, using him as a shield.  
  
"Sengoku-senpai..." Oishi started, seeming about ready to strangle the redhead but unable to because of his inherently gentle nature.  
  
Sengoku grins, "Kirihara is going to pay!"  
  
"I am not!" Kirihara protested.  
  
"Yes, you are. Because then I'm going to owe you, ne?" Sengoku batted his eyelashes.  
  
The idea of Sengoku owing him was just too much to resist, and Kirihara smiled at Oishi. "I'll pay off his bar tab," he volunteered easily.  
  
"Um, Sengoku, are you sure..." Oishi said hesitantly. A heavenly debt wasn't something to enter into lightly, and it seemed like Sengoku was about to let Kirihara put a down payment on his soul for some booze.  
  
Sengoku smiled a smile at the back of Kirihara's head that indicates that Kirihara has no clue what he was about to be getting into. So easy. So very, very easy. Sengoku turned the smile on Oishi, "Ahh, but who am I to stand in the way of someone paying off my tab out of the goodness of his heart?"  
  
"If he had any goodness in his heart, it'd be different!" Oishi exclaimed. "But -- "  
  
Kirihara merely cocked an eyebrow, enjoying the angel's immanent breakdown.  
  
"Everyone has a little bit of goodness in their heart, Oishi-kun. I'm just deciding to take it all right now," is the blithe reply.  
  
Kirihara smirked. Of course he had no goodness in his heart -- he was a minion of evil. "Get the tab, and I'll pay," he asked Oishi.  
  
Sengoku smiled encouragement at Oishi before glomping onto Kirihara's arm and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, "Thanks ever so much, sweetie pie!"  
  
Kirihara was hard-pressed not to hurt him. He was even more hard-pressed when he saw the size of the bill -- but he figured it was a good investment, and was Fuji always saying that most of the work was done in preparation?

* * *

Hell was a terrible place, unless you worked there.  
  
For the demons, it was all about having a good time, and Niou Masaharu knew better than most what a good time was. When he wasn't screwing his partner, he was tormenting souls. He loved playing mind games with them and making them miserable, because that was just the way he was. He was also very, very good at his job. On his last performance evaluation, he'd scorned Infernally, the highest grade a demon could get.  
  
Yagyuu Hiroshi slid into the room with all the stealth of smoke - which is pretty stealthy when you think about it, but has a tendency to leave this _smell_ - and pushed his glasses up his nose out of habit. It wasn't really a room and they weren't really glasses, but for the simplicity of discussion and the avoidance of mentioning the metaphysical, we'll say that they were. "Guess who just came back to Hell."  
  
Niou thought of all the demons he knew on assignment currently, and only one name would have warranted this response from his lover. "Kirihara?" he asked, trying to contain his delight.  
  
Yagyuu's glasses glinted. It was a precise science getting them to glint just so with the red light, but Yagyuu was and had always been a master of such things. "None other."  
  
Niou sat down in a chair which appeared under his ass as soon as he needed it. Crossing his legs, he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, isn't that interesting? I wonder what our little prodigy has been up to?"  
  
Yagyuu produced the relevant list, "Spending a substantial amount of his requisitioned yen."  
  
"Oh, hooo.... are you going to give him more?" Niou asked. Yagyuu was the one who'd kept hell's books for the last couple of centuries, and he was a notorious tightwad.  
  
"Depends on if it was a justified expenditure," was the smooth reply. Yagyuu did not consider himself a tightwad, he considered himself to be an excellent manager of limited resources in a realm where self-control was considered to be a trait of the enemy. Frankly, Hell needed him more than Heaven.  
  
"He's screwed," Niou murmured, relishing the thought. As much as he liked Kirihara, he would enjoy watching the youngster squirm.  
  
Kirihara was hell's prodigy, on the fast-track to replacing one of the great demons who had managed to get exorcized by a miko about twenty years ago. The brat was less than a millennium old, but already he had wracked up an impressive record of damned souls to his credit. Rumor had it that Fuji intended to promote him within the next century or so.  
  
Not feeling it necessary to reply to such an obvious statement, Yagyuu slipped from in front of the desk to behind it so he could look out the just-appearing window. "He should be here shortly. I took the liberty of inviting Kikumaru as well."  
  
Kirihara's message had been vague on the matter of Kikumaru Eiji's presence during his little visit. Something about 'best news' and 'he owes me one' that seemed to have gotten scrambled in translation between Hell and Earth. Yagyuu made a mental note to speak with the Damned Operators about getting a proper connection established. This slipshod work was costing them money... _money_..  
  
Niou looked disgruntled. Kikumaru was not one of his favorite demons to deal with, simply because he had the attention span of a gnat. Every now ant then, Niou almost saw someone worth his time, but then that would fade away behind a bubbly exterior. The only thing they had in common was their sheer enjoyment of their jobs -- Kikumaru was one of the best incubi Hell had. Niou had never known him to fail in a seduction -- even if it took centuries.  
  
As if speaking of him had summoned his presence (and considering his nature, it might have very well had), Kikumaru Eiji appeared -- but in tow with him was hell's other prodigy, Echizen Ryoma.  
  
Eiji smirked, waved, and without further ado threw himself into a seat that barely had time to appear before he hit it. "Kikumaru Eiji reporting for service!" A tail waved in the air in a form of address that was both rude and sensual. Eiji was known for forgetting that the human form was lacking such extra appendages, but then again, sometimes it paid to be an incubus with multiple little extras.  
  
Echizen, now released from Eiji's vice-like grip, adjusted his cap, which was as much a part of him as Yagyuu's glasses, but not as schway looking - in Yagyuu's personal and brutally honest, but also horribly biased opinion. "Why did you drag me here, Kikumaru-senpai?"  
  
Eiji ignored him, grinning behind a paw. The reason was most likely going to be walking through the door shortly.  
  
"Kikumaru, his presence here is going to be disruptive," Niou warned, then tossed the red head a wicked grin. "Quite a good idea."  
  
The tail wriggled with glee, "You doubted me, Niou-san?"  
  
"Usually," Niou admitted. He rarely bothered lying since the truth was so much more tormenting.  
  
"Nyah Niou-san is so cruel!" Eiji made a face, though he smirked to himself. He expected nothing else from Hell's Infernally best.  
  
Echizen was just a lava drip away from being justifiably annoyed. Did his senpai do nothing except give each other verbal blow jobs? Or in some cases, actual blow jobs, he thought, casting a sly glance at Yagyuu, who was glinting in the light from the window.  
  
A smart-ass comment from the youngest demon was averted by the door swinging open, admitting Kirihara. Blinking, he stared at the gathering before his eyes narrowed on his number one rival. "Get out," he ordered Echizen.  
  
"No," was the brief and to the point reply.  
  
Kirihara jumped forward to forcibly remove the brat, but Niou caught him by the hair, rudely throwing him across the room so he landed on Kikumaru, who squawked angrily. "Where do you think you're going, junior?" he asked.  
  
Kirihara's eyes were spitting fire as he swore, making his seniors laugh.  
  
There was nothing to be done except /_smirk _at Kirihara, which is exactly what Echizen decided to do. That and hold his head up higher and eye his elders with somewhat less annoyance.  
  
Eiji, once past his initial anger, was finding a vast supply of entertainment in feeling his new chairmate up, "It's so nice of you to drop by, Akaya-kun."  
  
Kirihara ignored where Eiji's hands were going from long experience. "If you don't behave, I won't tell you my news," he taunted the incubus.  
  
Eiji considered this, "Is it good news?"  
  
Yagyuu lifted his expenditure list, "Frankly, I would like the news on why you felt it necessary to spend this much money."  
  
"Hey! My news first!" Eiji snapped, waving his paws, and coincidentally freeing poor Kirihara.  
  
Kirihara agilely rolled off, and produced a chair of his own. Unfortunately, he was right in Niou's reach, and Niou grabbed him in a headlock. "Spill it, junior, we're curious!" he demanded.  
  
Kirihara howled as Niou started to give him a noogie. "Alright! Alright! Lemme go first!" he yelled, trying to land an elbow in Niou's midsection and failing abysmally.  
  
"Kikumaru-senpai is molesting your Fallen, Niou-senpai," Echizen observed, watching with more than a little amusement as Eiji decides that waving his paws at Yagyuu isn't sufficient enough encouragement to let him have his way and switches to pounce-and-feel-him-up instead. Let it never be said that Kikumaru Eiji was _subtle_.  
  
It wasn't that Echizen feels like helping his rival by distracting his tormenter. Not at all. He just didn't want to watch Hell's Incubus molest Hell's Accountant. There was some scarring he just didn't need. And it meant that Kirihara was going to owe him.  
  
Niou let Kirihara go, rising to his feet to grab Kikumaru by the tail. "I seduced him first," he said dangerously. "Remember what I said the last time you tried to grope him?" he hissed.  
  
There was a long pause as Eiji experimentally gave Yagyuu a squeeze before pulling away and lashing his tail in Niou's grip, "I remember" he answered somewhat sulkily.  
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses as well as his clothes while Echizen smirked at Kirihara, "I appreciate that you all must posture, but can we please get to the matter at hand?"  
  
Niou jerked on Kikumaru's tail experimentally, enjoying the protest that followed. "What'a the scoop?" he demanded.  
  
Kirihara tried to decide if it would be more fun to let the chaos continue, or wiser to spill and bail from the insanity. Wisdom won the strange tug of war, so he turned to Yagyuu first. "I'm working on corrupting an angel," he said. "I had to pay off his bar bill."  
  
"And angel with a bar bill? What the hell are you talking about?" Niou demanded.  
  
Yagyuu mulled this over, not quite sure if he believes Kirihara or not, "An angel ... with a bar bill .... you are quite sure it was an angel?"  
  
Eiji pulled on his tail, trying to free it from Niou's grip, forgetting that he could just make it vanish.  
  
"I wondered, but Sengoku -- "  
  
The normally imperturbable Yagyuu's jaw actually dropped. "Did you say Sengoku?"  
  
"Yep, Something wrong?" Kirihara asked curiously, eager to have the mystery of Sengoku's rather unangelic behavior explained. Yagyuu had lived in heaven until about four centuries ago, when Niou had managed to drag him down, so it was quite possible he would know something.  
  
Yagyuu shook himself and closed his own jaw with a snap. He felt the need to adjust his glasses again, or perhaps rub the bridge of his nose. "I would advise not paying anything of Sengoku's ever again."  
  
Interested in the proceedings now, Echizen actually focused and payed closer attention.  
  
"He owes me a favor now!" Kirihara announced. "Isn't it worth getting a favor out of an angel? It's the first part of corruption!" he said, darting looks between Niou and Yagyuu, since the story of Yagyuu's corruption was quite well known.  
  
There was a moment in which Yagyuu actually considered telling Kirihara exactly what he had gotten himself into ... but it was the part of him that no longer existed and he calmly rid himself of the little bit of pity as well. "I think you will find that it is you that owes _him_ the favor." Okay, so maybe a little bit of his former angelic nature was still there, or maybe he just liked watching Kirihara _squirm_ over the possible implications of that.  
  
"He promised me a favor!" Kirihara shrieked, rising to his feet. His eyes turned red, a sign that he was ready to go destroy something or someone, "Angels don't lie!"  
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses, "That is true," he said, "just don't expect me to extend your expense account if you run out." There was no way in Heaven or Hell that he was letting Sengoku get his fingers on the 'bleed Kirihara dry, and thus Hell dry' button.  
  
Kirihara blinked, looking at him. "But I need more money -- and I have some really, really interesting news to pay for it!"  
  
"News first, money maybe later."  
  
"Nope, money first," Kirihara wangled, knowing how Yagyuu's mind worked. "Otherwise, Niou can bug you until I get more funds, cause I won't spill."  
  
Niou gave Yagyuu a Look that meant he'd better Think Carefully about what he was going to do.  
  
Yagyuu managed to glint his glasses in a manner that somehow conveyed 'He Paid Sengoku's bar bill! He's a FOOL.' Perhaps he was using morse code. "If your news is of a caliber that will directly affect the inner workings of one of our more serious plans, you will have your expense account refilled. Otherwise, you can suffer."  
  
"It's going to make life interesting..." Kirihara drawled.  
  
"Life is made interesting by your mere existence, Kirihara-kun."  
  
Kirihara set his jaw and stared at the ceiling. He knew he could out wait them -- or at least Niou and Kikumaru, who had the boredom thresholds of a two-year-old human child who'd just ingested a week's worth of sugar.  
  
Yagyuu weighed the value of his information versus the true annoyance of Niou and finally decided that he would rather not risk it. "Very well," he jotted a notation on the list and it vanished in a puff of smoke, "This had better be good." _Or I'm taking it back,_ he added to himself.  
  
"Kikumaru, when was the last time you managed to catch up to Oishi?" Kirihara grinned, knowing it had been several decades since Hell's most famous in-progress seduction had been waged.  
  
Eiji scowled, not enjoying the reminder of Oishi's disappearance being rubbed in his be-whiskered nose, "Seventy years. Why?"  
  
"Well, I happened to run into him, and -- " Kirihara was interrupted by an excited Eiji, who jumped up and tackled him, pinning him to his chair.  
  
"Where? Where?! C'mon, ochibi! Hurry up and tell me!" Eiji wriggled in excitement at the very thought, "C'mon, c'mon, we're wasting minutes that I could be there!!!"  
  
Niou started to laugh. "Ohhh, this is good," he murmured, ignoring the way Kirihara was being shaken.  
  
Yagyuu was forced to agree. Kirihara could keep his hard won yen. Echizen, however, did not look particularly pleased at having not found Oishi first.  
  
"Where?! Where?! Akaya-kun! I can't stand it anymore! Where's Oishi!?"  
  
"In a bar," Kirihara finally managed to gasp, and Kikumaru fell back, dumbstruck. "I guess his assignment must be a regular."  
  
Yagyuu almost twitched. The same bar with Sengoku, no doubt. This would indeed be interesting.  
  
"Oh hoi?! Oishi in a bar, with a regular! He's ripe for the plucking!" Eiji crowed, doing a little dance.  
  
"I think you should get Oishi's charge while you're at it, Kikumaru," Niou prodded. "A two-for-one special."  
  
"I should!" Eiji flexed his claws, purring now. "I should, I should, nyah" He bounded for the door, deciding he no longer needed to stick around and worry about little things like meetings with Hell's Infernally best. There was an Oishi to seduce! He had to get going! There's no time to waste! The door bangs and Eiji was gone, leaving only a bit of shed fur behind.  
  
"Che. You just got lucky," Echizen muttered vaguely in Kirihara's direction, quietly lamenting the fact that he wasn't on the scene of double angelic intervention. That would have bagged him quite the prize to put on his resume.  
  
"Do you think he'll realize I didn't tell him which bar?" Kirihara asked, ignoring the upstart.  
  
Before anyone could answer, the door banged open again and Eiji threw himself at Kirihara, "Aghh! Ochibi! You didn't tell me which bar! How could you forget something important like that?!"  
  
"I didn't!" Kirihara protested, trying to untangle himself from his senpai. "You didn't ask! Besides, you can't go looking like that!"  
  
"I'm not going to go looking like this! What do you take me for? An amateur?!" Eiji shook Kirihara to make his point. "The bar! Focus, ochibi! Where's the bar!?"  
  
"It's called The Lounge, it's located in Tokyo," Kirihara said, his fingers trying to unpry Eiji's from his neck.  
  
"The Lounge," Eiji purred with relish. "It even _sounds_ sinful." He rattled Kirihara again. "Where in Tokyo?"  
  
Kirihara looked uncertain. "Tokyo?" he said lamely. He had never been particularly strong on the geography thing.  
  
"Perhaps it by the college that Kirihara is assigned to," Yagyuu inserted almost helpfully.  
  
Eiji sparkled at Yagyuu, dropping Kirihara with a thump, "Perfect. Just ... perfect. I'm coming, Oishi! Wait up for me!" With that he charged back out the door.  
  
Niou stared at Kirihara. "So that's your report? You've located Oishi, and you're working on seducing an angel?"  
  
"And an entire math class -- well, damning them, at least. Most of them don't need more than a nudge." Kirihara scowled. "Just wish Sengoku wasn't in it."  
  
Yagyuu placed his hand on his jaw to keep it from doing any more unexpected motions.  
  
"Does it matter? I thought you were on the path of his seduction?" was Echizen's helpful commentary.  
  
Kirihara's eyes flared as he glared at the brat. Echizen may had damned 99 souls in his mere century of existence, but that meant squat, considering they were all human souls. Kirihara wanted to play with the big boys now.  
  
"Just watch! If Niou can damn an angel, then I certainly can!" he pronounced before stalking out of the door proudly.  
  
Echizen watched him go, once more annoyed that _he_ didn't have an angel to play with. That would certainly ensure his rise if an angel was his 100th damned soul. "He seems to think he's as good as you are, Niou-sempai."  
  
"As bad as I am, ochibi-chan," Niou corrected, his eyes sparkling. "I think he has some natural talent, but let's see what he does with it?"  
  
"Made made dane," was all Echizen felt he should reply to that. Hell forbid that he acknowledge that Kirihara had anything at all. Not willing to continue any discussion that included his rivals prowess and certainly none that had Niou and Yagyuu _together_ while he was _alone,_ Echizen drifted out of the room, making sure it wasn't obvious that he was fleeing.  
  
Niou smirked at the door. "Now that they're gone, want to tell me about Sengoku?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Depends," Yagyuu smiled somewhat slyly. "What do I get out of it?"  
  
The door mysteriously vanished as Niou rose to his feet to stand behind Yagyuu. His hands wandered up and down his lover's body before he leaned forward to nibble his ear, evoking a shudder. "It would make me... happy."  
  
"Would it?" Yagyuu let his eyes slide closed as he leaned back into Niou's arms, a hand reaching back to rest on Niou's hip, rubbing lightly, "I don't make you ... happy already?"  
  
Niou recognized a distraction when he saw one, but just then Yagyuu rubbed against him provocatively, and Niou forgot about anything except pinning the Fallen Angel to the floor and making him scream in shared ecstasy. 


	2. The Climate of Hell and Other Matters

Paved with Good Intentions

by Surefall and Aishuu

Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.

Part Two Summary: In Which some mortals are already on the road to hell and archangels share a bath.

* * *

Rooming with Saeki Kojiroh was an experience Fuji Yuuta was convinced he'd never forget. Saeki was a rather unusual personality, and delighted in tormenting those around him. Yuuta liked him -- he figured he must had been attracted to Saeki's cruel steak. Of course, he was dating Mizuki Hajime, so he figured he was just a glutton for punishment.

Their room, located in a standard dorm, was often the scene of minor clashes between the suave Saeki and the manipulative Mizuki. Both of them considered Yuuta their personal toy, and neither played well with others.

Yuuta just suffered through it. They were at it -- again -- and Yuuta was considering ordering out for pizza or maybe ramen. It was like listening to a broken record.

Mizuki Hajime sniffed at Saeki in a manner that indicated he smelled something especially odious in the room and it happened to be one Saeki Kojiroh, "When hell freezes over." This was the resounding finish to his argument and he considered a damn good one.

Hearing Mizuki's speak had Yuuta spitting something out unwilling. Occasionally his mouth would run away with him, and this was one of those times. "Actually, there's parts of hell that are frozen already."

He had no clue where that came from, but he was convinced he was right.

Pleased to be distracted from his endless argument with Mizuki over what amounted to home decorating using paint ball guns, Saeki tossed out an easy, "How do they manage to keep it frozen if it's always hot down there?"

"It's got different climates, just like heaven and earth. Some people find being cold their own personal hell, and the devil has to accommodate," Yuuta said, still considering what take out place to order from, and ignoring the fact that Saeki had apparently forgotten his fight with Mizuki in favor of pestering his roomie.

Fight? What fight? Saeki remembered no fight. Already, he has blotted it from his mind ... especially since he knew he was right. Mizuki was just blustering to save face. "That makes a certain sense."

If Saeki's talking, Mizuki felt obligated to one-up him, usually in a manner that best revealed his higher level of culture and displayed Saeki's inability to be anything more than a cute plebe. "Dante mentions that hell would be cold, because it's the furthest from the light of God," he mused idly, toying with a strand of his hair.

"Oh, it's still pretty hot in places." Ramen, Yuuta decided. From the best little place he'd discovered last week... but it didn't have take-out, so he'd need to actually go get it. With a sigh, he went over to his closest to dig out a more presentable shirt -- Mizuki had managed to rip his in their last encounter. Saeki had been rather upset at walking in on them having sex on his bed, thus the argument.

Saeki shot Mizuki an annoyed look as Yuuta's actions reminded him that yes, Yuuta was dating another guy and yes, they were kinky enough to do it on Saeki's bed. "Just not everywhere?"

"It's either hot or cold. No real in between." Where the heck were his shoes.... Yuuta didn't even notice his profound statements, preferring to focus on the material world. Saeki and Mizuki, though, were absolutely enchanted by this side of the normally rather thick young man.

Mizuki felt compelled to keep this magical perception flowing, "Land of extremes, then?"

"It's hell. Of course it is. You're just never in the extreme you want." Yuuta opened his wallet and found it pitifully empty. Shaking his head, he sidled over to Mizuki and traced his hand us his boyfriend's thigh, before blatantly swiping his wallet.

Mizuki smirked at the look on Saeki's face, content to let his boyfriend take all the money he wanted, provided he puts his hand back where it was.

The blatant male fondling was not to be tolerated (well, fondling that involved Mizuki - he could stand other sorts of male fondling). Saeki tossed in another hopeful distraction to their lust (he refused to call it anything like love), "Makes sense. Jeez, Yuuta. What do you do? Spend your weekends figuring this stuff out?"

Yuuta felt Mizuki's hand slip down the front of his pants, and Saeki's question was a rather unwelcome distraction. "... what were we talking about?" he asked as Mizuki stroked him temptingly. They'd only been having sex half and hour ago, but it was hard to keep his body from reacting.

"Hell. Hey, do you know what the devil looks like?" Saeki replied, beginning to be mildly annoyed. He flipped Mizuki the bird and Mizuki mouthed 'any time' at him over Yuuta's shoulder.

Only one word came to Yuuta's mind as Mizuki pulled him into his lap. "Sexy."

Mizuki did more than smirk at Saeki this time. His face was the picture of clear triumph as he bent his head to mouth the back of Yuuta's neck.

"Being the seducer of innocent souls ... " it was quite clear that Saeki considers Mizuki to be the true seducer here. An especially slimy one. "Yeah, okay ... is it a chick?"

Another brief certainty flitted through Yuuta's mind. "Well, some people think so on first sight, but he's all male."

"Damn," Saeki drawled, pulling a particularly grotesque sock out from under Yuuta's bed and rolling it up. He lifted it in a threatening manner, eyeing Mizuki ominously, "I was hoping he would be a hot chick."

Mizuki stuck his tongue out at Saeki in a childish fashion and then purred against Yuuta's ear, "Yuuta-kun ... what about Heaven?"

"Never been there, how would I know?" Yuuta asked crossly, leaning back as Mizuki toyed with his nipples.

That was it, Saeki couldn't stand it anymore. He threw the hazardous waste pretending to be a sock at Mizuki's head, "You're saying you've been to hell?"

Mizuki ducked and shoved Yuuta under into the sock's path. It was Yuuta's, he should be immune!

Yuuta gagged as the sock smacked him in the face. "Hey, you bastard!" he said, rising to his feet and straightening his shirt. The conversation was lost as Saeki proceeded to get pummeled by an irate Yuuta, while Mizuki laughed.

Saeki had the weirdest roommate. Sometimes you'd think he actually knew what he was talking about.

Despite Yagyuu and Kirihara's oh-so-detailed instructions, it still took Kikumaru twenty-seven bars and thirty-three clubs to find The Lounge. He probably wouldn't have needed to do the clubs, but he happened to have gotten distracted. Free drinks for chicks under twenty-five - she could dig it! Kikumaru happened to view physical sexuality as a pair of clothes he could change when the need arose. Who could pass that kind of thing up? Yagyuu would approve.

Now, though, his destination was at hand and he could just feel the ripple of delighted tension that shivered down his spine. This, he thought, was the moment of truth. He would walk in there and Oishi would fall at his feet just like that. No question. Kikumaru Eiji could do this.

Throwing open the door, he stalked inside, strutting his leather clad ass and letting the dim light sparkle off his skin tight shirt just so. Entrance was an art. Nailing Oishi (why did Oishi have to wear such drab clothes? Did angels know nothing of pizzaz?) with a determined stare and a pointed finger, he cried, "Why didn't you tell me you were working here?!?!"

Oishi had been half-expecting Kikumaru to show up after his encounter with Kirihara, but that didn't stop him from dropping the drink he's been preparing for Shinji. The shattering glass echoed through the bar, but Oishi ignored the shards and liquor that decorated the floor at his feet. All he could do was stare at Kikumaru in disbelieving horror, and a bit of... relief. It'd been far too long since they'd played their game, and Oishi had missed the cheerful incubus.

"Um. well..." he stammered, backing up so he was leaning against the bottles of exotic drinks. Kikumaru always threw him off balance.

Oishi hadn't changed, that much was obvious. Kikumaru put his hands on his hips and leaned forward, pouting with every ounce of pathetic kittyness he could summon without using ears, "Oishi, you were supposed to tell me where you were running to so I could follow you!"

"That would have defeated the point of running." He stared at Kikumaru's beautiful face, remembering what it had been like to kiss him...

No, no, no! Don't go there! he warned himself. Lust was a sin, and he'd damn himself in thirty seconds if he gave consideration on what he really wanted to do with the demon.

They had been playing this game for nearly five hundred years, ever since they met during the Renaissance in Italy. Every time they encountered each other, Kikumaru would try to seduce Oishi, who had a weakness for redheads. Twice it had only been through the intervention of Tezuka, one of the four Archangels, that Oishi hadn't sold his soul to the incubus.

Kikumaru had reserved a special level of annoyance for Tezuka, That Stealer of His Fair Game. Who cared if he had been the one who had been responsible for kicking Lucifer to oblivion? If he didn't happen to be Fuji's personal little project, Kikumaru would have wiggled his ass in Tezuka's oh-so-holy direction and taught him a thing or two.

Kikumaru licked his lips, making sure to drag the tip of his tongue languorously along the very edge of lip and skin, knowing its power, "There wasn't any need to run, Oishi-kun"

For a second Oishi thought he saw cat ears appear on Eiji's head, and tried not to groan. His breathing was quickening, and he felt like a drug addict being promised a fix. "I think... there's plenty of reason. Eiji -- "

"You're too loud," Shinji informed Kikumaru with a dark look, thumping his drink for emphasis. What was it? Interrupt his quality time week? Was there no god?

Kikumaru swivelled his head to stare at Shinji. He licked his lips again, catching that wisp of human thought: Was there no god? Sidling over to the bar, he dropped himself down next to Shinji and cooed, just a little, "I'm so sorry ... let me buy you a drink to make up for it! Oishi-kun! A drink for my new friend."

Shinji scowled. This person was as annoying as Sengoku ...

"Eiji... I think he's had enough for tonight," Oishi said, not wanting to let Kikumaru focus on the mortal. Kikumaru was practically irresistible to souls who wanted affection, and Shinji might be tempted too easily.

"There's no such thing as enough!" Eiji protested and Shinji nodded in agreement. Clearly, this person was way smarter than the people he usually happened to end up drinking beside.

"Shinji, how about I call you a cab so you can get to class on time tomorrow?" Oishi asked, trying to find some way out of this situation.

Shinji mumbled mutinously, "Don't need to go to class."

Kikumaru nodded in complete agreement. That's right, silly mortal, reject your responsibilities.

"I'm already failing them."

"It's only a week in!" Oishi protested. "All you need to do is give it a little effort."

"Don't wanna."

Oishi stepped toward Shinji to offer comfort, but the sound of glass under his feet reminded him of the drink he'd dropped. "Ibu-san, if you want to be happy, you need to embrace life."

Kikumaru had thought the mortal was doing pretty good on his own, but that was no reason not to block Oishi at every turn. "No, he doesn't ... he just needs another drink to be happy."

Shinji mulled this over for a bit. Somewhere in that, he was sure there had been a break in logic ... but on the other hand, he wanted another drink, and any excuse to get one is a good excuse, "Yeah. Now gimme another drink."

Oishi was a comforting angel, not one of the ones who read people their rights. He wished that someone with a better backbone was dealing with Shinji, because he found himself handing over the beer as requested. "That's your last one," he said lamely, feeling miserable.

Shinji had only heard that a million times. He tugged the beer to him and happily (as close to happy as morose and unsociable can get) slurped the foam off. "Mmmmm."

Kikumaru almost purred, stroking the human's arm in a overly friendly gesture as he smirked at Oishi. So easy, so very, very easy. He stared at Oishi with dark, dark, darkening eyes, as if saying that he could be doing the same thing to Oishi that he was doing to the human ... touching ... caressing ...

"Kikumaru, maybe we should talk about things... later... alone," Oishi conceded. He can see that Shinji is on the brink of the point of no return, and if he has to sacrifice himself....

Kikumaru smiled at Oishi brilliantly, "Really? Oishi-kun wants to be alone with me?"

Want would be the wrong word. Dreaded was more accurate. "We need to talk," Oishi reiterated, shutting his eyes in resignation.

Kikumaru almost giggled, covering his mouth with a hand (mourning the loss of his paws), "Oishi-kun needs me!"

Oishi decided that the best thing to do would just be ignore that. Nodding at a waitress to cover his post, he grabbed Kikumaru by the elbow and pulled him into the manager's office. He was in charge at night, so he had enough rights to the place.

Squawking in surprise, Eiji allowed himself to be dragged, more from initial surprise than anything else. Once inside the office, however, with the door swinging shut behind him, he realized just how convenient Oishi's maneuver was. Smiling smugly, Eiji twisted in Oishi's grip, sliding his free arm around Oishi's neck and pressing himself up against the taller angel. "Oishi-kun does want to be alone with me," he purrs.

From long experience, Oishi had learned that any attempts to dislodge the demon would only result in him becoming more resolute. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and prayed for patience and chastity. It was extremely hard to ignore the hands wandering all over his body, but he tried with divine might. "Eiji, what are you doing here?" he asked.

Eiji pouted into the bit of Oishi's neck he happened to be nuzzling. He didn't really want Oishi to actually start questioning how he managed to show up. Oh no, he would rather that Oishi moaned his name and then nicely fall to hell so he could fuck him silly. "Visiting you! What else would I be doing here?"

"Tempting some mortal into sin?" Oishi returned, trying not to either lean in or squirm away. Indifference was his best weapon, but the hardest to employ.

"But you're my most very favorite project, Oishi-kun!"

When Kikumaru's hands finally tried to slide into his pants, Oishi backed up a step. There was only so much he could ignore. "Stop it!" Oishi said, smacking Eiji's hands lightly to keep them off.

Eiji made his best hurt face, almost making himself a pair of drooping kitty ears before he remembered his human form shouldn't really do that, "But, Oishi .... !"

"Just... behave!" Oishi ordered.

"Mmmmm" Eiji purred, licking his lips. Oishi was so cute when he thought he could order him around. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch the angel again.

Oishi took another step back before his back met with the wall. Cornered, he stared with helpless eyes as Eiji wrapped around his body again. "Eiji -- " he started, but a warm mouth cut him off.

Satisfied that he had managed to shut Oishi up, Eiji pulled back to gloat, "You need to stop talking so much and just ... live a little." Before Oishi could be given the opportunity to reply to that, Eiji sealed his lips over Oishi's again and ran his tongue across his teeth, wanting in and wanting in right now.

Oishi raised his hands to push the incubus off, but somehow ended up pulling him closer. His mind was frying and all he could think was about how good it felt...

Oishi was delicious when his defenses were crumbling into dust. Eiji squirmed in his grip, rubbing himself enticingly against his divine counterpart while he worked on plundering a soft mouth. Angels were always so sweet, like candy and cream and things so easily sharpened with forbidden sin. He was going to take great pleasure in making Oishi his very own Fallen.

Neither of them heard the sound of the door being cracked open, but both became aware of the voyeur when he began to mumble.

Shinji squinted at them, empty mug clenched determinedly in one fist, "So that's where you were ... s'not fair getting to suck face with him like that when I don't get too ... I want someone to suck face with too ... and I need some beer. ... why weren't you out there when I needed beer? ... . it's really an empty mug now and I want a refill ... and can you please stop kissing him, I really don't like it ... you shouldn't be kissing him like that, Oishi-san ... "

Oishi pushed Kikumaru back, sending the incubus into the sofa. Eiji laughed a bit, but as he tried to sprawl out invitingly, he realized that he landed awkwardly enough to be sore.

Stupid human form.

Oishi, after a somewhat guilty look at Kikumaru, turned to Shinji, wishing his face didn't blush so easily. "Um... um, Ibu-san..." he stuttered, unable to think of any reasonable excuse about what he was doing.

Shinji stared at Eiji darkly, not particularly pleased by the way he was attempting to sprawl on the sofa. Then he turns the look to Oishi, who was looking far too well-kissed to make a single man happy, "I want a refill," he repeated firmly.

Oishi realized that he had been saved from sin only through what was probably divine intervention. "Go home!" he ordered Eiji, before grabbing Shinji by the shoulder and forcing him through the door, intent on making the mortal as many drinks as he could handle before passing out. He gave Eiji a warning look -- somewhat diluted by how swollen his lips were -- and hurried out of the office.

Shinji grumbled, but it turned into pleased mutterings as he was plied with a sloshing foam of the pub's finest brew.

Eiji was not so pleased at this turn of events. Annoying mortal. He had almost had Oishi. Almost! It was so close, he could feel him crumbling. Eiji grinned suddenly, flexing his fingers in the sofa as though they were claws. It seemed the long years had been like a drought to his favorite angel ... he could use that ... and the bitter little mortal too.

The cackle that echoed through the empty room would have scared any sinner straight, but luckily for Eiji, no one was there to hear it.

In the hierarchy of heaven, there were four archangels who were God's right hands. Three of them were currently holding a meeting in what appeared to be a.... bathhouse. Cleanliness being a virtue and all, heaven was well-equipped with bathing facilities, believing that clean bodies led to cleaner spirits.

It was not that Tezuka didn't believe in cleanliness, it was just that he didn't see why they had to meet in a bathhouse every single time. He was beginning to suspect that all angels were secretly voyeurs on some level and were letting out their secret little desires by spying on each other in a socially acceptable setting. Despite this, he still picked up a bar of soap and began lathering up with determination. "Everyone is doing well, I hope?" Formalities and politeness must always be observed.

Atobe rolled his eyes and grabbed a sponge. "Of course I am." He slanted a look at Yukimura, the fragile-looking man appearing like he was able to be blown away by a breeze. "Though I think Seiichi still hasn't recovered from the... what was it last time? Black plague?"

"World War I, actually," Seiichi said, his face still wane. He was notorious for managing to injure himself in the line of duty. His smile wasn't bothered, though, as he gave Tezuka a smile of exceeding sweetness. "Did you have something you wanted from us, Kunimitsu-kun?"

"I would advise being more careful on your next assignment, Seiichi," was Tezuka's relatively calm additive to the discussion of Seiichi's persisting collection of injuries. It was true that injuries from a rather titanic battle back around the time made Yukimura prone to sickness now, so he really should just take care of himself, Tezuka thought. There was indeed a subject that Tezuka wished to broach with his colleagues, but one he was also reluctant to discuss. Atobe had a tendency to pick at his plans despite never being involved in them.

Yukimura blinked at him. "They're not letting me go down - that's why Sanada-"

"Where is old stone face, anyway?" Atobe asked. It was a well-known fact that Sanada was practically glued to Yukimura's hip, so if he wasn't with Yukimura, chances were he was on earth.

Yukimura ignored Atobe's interruption gracefully, continuing smoothly as soon as Atobe shut up. "-is working in Florida to straighten that mess Niou gave us a few years ago."

A line crinkled its way between Tezuka's eyes, an indication that he was frowning. "You should have been able to handle the clean up of that on your own." It sounded as though Sanada and Yanagi had teamed up against Yukimura again.

"I would have, but it's a bit difficult to do from up here. I needed someone who could actually manifest... I've got another two decades before Yanagi says I'll be fit enough to work on the mortal plane."

"Unfortunate," Tezuka set the soap back down and reached for the water dipper, "Do we know if Sengoku is bothering to check his messages? He seems to be ignoring mine."

Atobe sniffed. "He gets them, I just doubt he pays any attention." The idea of the irreverent angel always ruffled the feathers on Atobe's back. "Why in heaven would you want anything to do with him?"

"I prefer to keep track of his movements rather than letting him run wild without supervision."

It definitely was a good point, but Atobe found Sengoku so annoying he ignored the logic of Tezuka's argument. "Out of sight, out of mind," he said, waving a disdainful hand.

Yukimura tried not to sigh. Being with the two was like being between the proverbial rock and a hard place - though he would secretly call it "hard heads" since Tezuka and Atobe Occasionally needed to have their heads knocked together - usually by Sanada. It was times like this Yukimura missed Sanada, since he knew he couldn't use those brute-strength methods. People expected him to be nice, after all.

"He is one of us," Yukimura said, offering a gentle smile. "We're concerned about all of God's children, especially the unruly ones."

"Out of sight and most likely planting frogs in your clouds again, Atobe." Tezuka often felt it necessary to bring this particular prank up. Mainly because it secretly amused him to think about it. Tezuka shifted his focus to Yukimura and mouthed the easy platitude that Sengoku fed him every time he pulled something of a dubious nature, "We are all implements of divine will." Perhaps that would be sufficiently neutral enough to free him from having to make statements about which side he thought Sengoku was actually working for.

Yukimura merely raised an eyebrow, even though his compassionate expression didn't waver. "Indeed." His smile shone line a warm sunbeam as he bestowed it on his peers. "Tezuka, is there some reason you're particularly curious about Yukimura?" he asked as he gestured for Atobe to pass the strawberry scented bath gel.

"I suspect he may be up to something," it was not a lie, suspecting the wayward angel was up to something was part of why Tezuka was asking.

"When is he not up to something?" Atobe shot back as he tossed Yukimura the bottle he had requested. "If he would only spend a quarter as much time as I do with God, he might be on a better path."

Now Atobe was bringing out his supposed favorite status with the Heavenly Father. It might have been a bit more powerful, if he wasn't talking to Yukimura, who was millennia older than he was, and Tezuka, who everyone knew was the most powerful among them. Yukimura mutely grabbed a bath poof and added the gel, the sweet smell calming him. "Is there something unique about this situation? We all know Sengoku has a penchant for finding trouble," Yukimura said instead of riding to Atobe's bait.

There are moments that one must simply ignore Atobe. Now was one of those moments. Tezuka poured some cinnamon shampoo into his hands and calmly applied the substance to his hair before he answered Yukimura, "I fear he may be interfering with Oishi."

"Oishi?" Yukimura said, unable to hide his surprise. Oishi was one of their best, with his genuine compassion guiding him through. If only there wasn't the incubus who had declared Oishi his personal play-thing.

"Yes." Tezuka was not known for exposition.

Atobe was tempted to dunk Tezuka in an attempt to get him to say something constructive. "Sengoku has a bad habit of not being where he should, but what makes this time so special?" he asked, but then his face darkened as his legendary Insight piece the puzzle together. "Don't tell me Sengoku's playing with demons again..."

"That was what I was afraid of," what he was hoping for, actually, "and why I was asking if anyone had heard anything," Tezuka made it sound like an admission versus an explanation.

"Maybe we should ask Akutsu. They are rather close friends," Yukimura suggested.

Atobe snorted at the idea of Akutsu having any friends. "Is he still here? Isn't it about time for Dan to tempt him away again?"

No one was really quite sure which side Akutsu was originally on, but it was well known that he switched almost every decade. Yukimura found it hard to believe that he always fell for Dan Taichi, but he had to admit that devil had definitely redefined the concept of "cutely evil." It was only when their own Kawamura managed to make Akutsu repent that the whole cycle would start again. According to Yanagi's records, Akutsu had switched sides 657 times.

"Yes. It seems he's actually taking Sengoku's messages right now." Something that had been somewhat interesting to watch. The phone would ring, Akutsu would pick it up and then he would promptly set it back down again, disconnecting the caller. It had been something of an education in how Sengoku had always managed to miss their calls.

"Well, send him down to fetch Sengoku. Problem solved," Atobe returned. "Is that all?"

The last thing Tezuka wanted was ever-ambivalent Akutsu mucking around in what was basically Tezuka's business. He just didn't bother to tell Atobe that he'll be ignoring his advice, "Yes, I believe that is everything."

Yukimura was smart enough to detect the subtle undercurrents that Atobe's pride made him miss. He finally did sigh aloud, realizing that Sanada would have to be called back to help deal with the fall out. The Floridians could sort out their own election system.

In the beginning, everyone knows that God created the universe. A universe with certain laws, certain rules, and certain elements that remain constant over time. One of these universal constants is math, the little bit of calculation that keeps the scientific parts of the universe running on cue. This is the unfortunate reason why students of all ages must study the little bits ... that and the fact that some fool named Newton bothered to pull Calculus out of the ether in a fit of divine inspiration and teach it to the masses. Sengoku didn't admit it to his own associates that Newton's Calculus had been his own bit of contribution to law and order ... as well as the torment that made so many bright souls fall astray.

So he didn't really need to be in math class. But hot damn if the pretty little bit of infernal fluff named Kirihara wasn't here and so was Saeki, who was just an all around outstandingly fun mortal who happened to be throwing something at Mizuki right now. No, Sengoku held no responsibility for the paperclip flying at Mizuki's head ... okay, so maybe he did. Just a little.

Mizuki snapped an "ow!" and rubbed the back of his head, turning to glare poisonously at the two now innocently smiling perpetrators.

Sakaki had declared the period a shared study, which was why Kirihara had managed to wangle his way into a group containing Mizuki and Yuuta. The other group that was sitting nearby was the aforementioned Saeki and Sengoku, and a rather excitable person named Kamio. He was a ton of fun to incite, and had a fuse the length of one of Kikumaru's whiskers. There might be a touch of delay in the explosion, but he almost always went off pretty quickly.

Wordlessly Kirihara handed Mizuki a spitball shooter. "Aim for the face," he advised.

Mizuki did not need to be told twice. He loaded, he aimed, he fired on his immediately dodging foes. "You fuckers, stop moving out of the way!"

Sengoku pulled a face at him, "Oh, you want us to stand still?"

"You couldn't hit the broadside of my ass if it was flashing itself at you," Saeki blithely informed him.

"You're going to flash your ass?" Sengoku asked, intrigued.

"Oh, did you want to see it?"

"Please?"

Saeki turned, undid his pants, and merrily mooned the now twitching Mizuki (who forgot to shoot such a nice target out of disbelieving shock). Ignoring the catcalls of girls across the room, he gives Mizuki a smirk and sits back down, dressing as he goes. Sengoku places a hand over his heart, "A finer ass I have never seen."

Kirihara was started to get to the point where nothing Sengoku did surprised him anymore - he was becoming numb to it, really. Who cared if Sengoku was merrily leading Saeki down the path to eternal damnation? It made Kirihara's job a lot easier.

Yuuta, now beat red, was staring at the squabbling trio with disbelief. He'd thought Saeki and Mizuki were bad, but this new element was raising the usual bickering to an art form. He looked at Mizuki with the puppy eyes he knew his lover couldn't resist. "Um, can we just get back to studying?" he asked, hoping to advert a further flagrant public display.

Mizuki cast an exceptionally dark look at Saeki, making a mental note to seek a great vengeance on him at a later date. And on Sengoku as well, but mainly on Saeki. He reached out to rest his hand on Yuuta's thigh and murmured an "Of course, Yuuta-kun," and smirked as Saeki shot him an annoyed look.

Sengoku glanced down at Kamio's quasi-industrious scribbles and then looked up to smile at Kirihara, "Hey, Kiri-kun Think we can trade you for quick stuff here?"

"Why would I want to join your group? All you do is copy off me," Kirihara returned. He decided to take aim at Kamio, and maybe rile him up. "If he's not good enough for you to copy off of, it's not my problem."

Kamio's hand shook as he tried to maintain his attention on his assignment. There was no way he wanted to get involved in the current sparring match - he was meeting with An after class, and she would be annoyed if he wound up in trouble.

"Can I help it if you're such a fine upstanding student who actually does his work?" Sengoku shot back.

Saeki just reloaded and zeroed in on Kirihara, "Yo, stop molesting our group."

"He started it!" Kirihara protested.

Sengoku and Saeki look at each other and looks of innocence pass between them. Saeki turns back to Kirihara and fires again, "Such lies."

It was an annoyance to have to duck the projectile, but inside Kirihara preened. Damning Saeki's soul was pretty much a sure-fire thing... almost a freebie. He thought that even if Sengoku tried to set him on the path to redemption, Saeki would probably veer way left of it.

"I never lie!" Kirihara protested, meeting Sengoku's eyes in challenge. Angels always had to tell the truth, and devils almost always lied to keep things going. It made life interesting.

"Sure you do," Sengoku countered with lazy disagreement, "All the time." He didn't call it lying, he called it restructuring the truth. He also didn't worry too much about fighting for things that he couldn't win. Saeki was nearly assured to fall, but Sengoku figured they'd make good friends when he rose to demonhood in the future -- that was a surer thing than his initial fall.

Saeki, his accuracy apparently in doubt if he missed Kirihara, was more than happy to reload and fire again.

Yuuta's expression became even more pained as Saeki misfired and hit him in the cheek. "Saeki!" he growled, feeling his temper about to go.

Saeki just waved at him, "Yo, sorry, man," he grinned, "You could just come over to our side and spare yourself."

"I choose my own side," Yuuta said icily. Mizuki chuckled and leaned over to give him a rather excessive kiss.

It finally made Kamio snap. He'd been watching quietly, hoping they'd stop, but in the end the rather blatant male PDA turned his stomach. He was not comfortable at all... it reminded him of the time Shinji had tried- well, it wasn't one of his favorite memories.

Slamming his book closed, he rose to his feet, ready to stalk out after giving everyone a piece of his mind, but a gentle hand on his shoulder paused him.

"Akira, take a deep breath," Tachibana, the TA, advised, a calm expression on his face.

This was one of the moments where Sengoku was mortally tempted to say something along the lines of 'from somewhere about here' and point in dubious directions. He bit his lip to stop the snicker from the thought and elbowed Saeki to do it instead. Saeki, ever ready to pipe up at the golden opportunity, delivered these words of wisdom, "Take a chill pill, man."

Kamio, who'd been calming down under Tachibana's soothing presence, lit up like a firecracker. "I don't want you to tell me what to do! All I want is to get out homework done, but you two seem more intent on inciting the class perverts!"

Mizuki sniffed at Kamio is disdain, "We are not perverts. Saeki may be a pervert, but we aren't. Isn't that right, Yuuta?"

The only thing more entertaining than watching Kamio explode, Saeki thought, was watching Mizuki explode. To this end, he casually laid a hand on Sengoku's leg and gave it a stroke, "That's me, perverted all the way."

"Aww, honey, I didn't know you cared! But what will the kids say?" Sengoku simpered, a truly disturbing sight, and tossed an arm around Saeki's shoulders.

"I don't know what the kids will say, but their babysitter says it's a good idea to use class time wisely," Tachibana replied. His smile wasn't at all mocking, and took the wind out of their sails. Strangely, his words actually had a positive effect. Mizuki sniffed and opened his book, and Kamio returned to his seat.

Kirihara fumed inside. Things had been going so well... and then that jerk had butted in, putting out the fire before it could get properly blazing.

That decided it. Along with damning Sengoku, he was going to bring Tachibana down. Down - to hell, that was.

END PART TWO


	3. The Devil Takes a Holiday

Paved with Good Intentions

by Surefall and Aishuu

Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.

Part Two Summary: In Which religious theory overtakes a math class and the devil finally appears.

* * *

In the beginning of time, man was basically an idiot. He left his crops sitting a small, airless place for too long and expected them not to rot. Foolish, foolish man. Of course they did! That's when he discovered that he could drink the rot (why he decided to drink the rot is a mystery we hope never to truly uncover) and after he had managed to pry himself from the worship of holes in the ground and rid himself of those pesky hangovers ... alcohol was born. This was a discovery that really just led to man being yet more stupid, for he was killing any brain cells he had managed to accumulate.

But this really has nothing to do with the matter at hand, unless you count the fact that man likes to make small cave-like places in which he may drink his alcohol in the coveted time-honored fashion of the very first drink. Man likes tradition. In this tradition, Shinji sat with his mug in one hand and peanuts in the other, morosely staring at his barkeep, who was industriously scrubbing the bar in order to ignore Shinji's new favorite drinking companion: Kikumaru Eiji.

Eiji was also clutching a mug in the time honored fashion of drunks everywhere, but he chose to display himself in the time honored fashion of dames: leaning against the bar, a long smoke dangling from the free hand, while one's clothes make an effort not to spontaneously detach from one's skin and fall to the floor. Actually, Eiji had considered this, and discarded it as too scarring to mere mortal minds. Not to mention that the threat of their falling was giving Oishi a harder time than if they actually fell.

Oishi was trying very hard to keep his eyes above Eiji's neck, and ignore the way Eiji's low hip-huggers seemed determined to desert his body at any moment. That, however, left him looking at Eiji's mouth, which was wet with liquor and from the way Eiji occasionally traced his tongue oh-so-temptingly around it. It was times like these that Oishi offered prayers of thanks for the apron he was able to wear as the bartender, because it nicely hid the rather large boner that made it hard to move.

Finally getting irritated by Oishi's constant distraction, Shinji asked the first thing that came to his mind. "What's your favorite color, Oishi-san?"

"Red," Oishi said, unable to keep from his gaze from drifting to Eiji's hair, admiring the way the tendrils curled against his cheeks, and brought of his blue-violet eyes.

Eiji blew Oishi a little kiss and absently pulled a lock of his hair. Shinji shot Eiji a dark look and thumped his beer morosely. What was it about redheads? Horrible, irritating ... sensuous ... Shinji shook his head. "Have any hobbies?"

"I sing, a little," Oishi admitted. He was part of heaven's choir, so he supposed that counted. "I like music."

Kamio liked music, too. Shinji shuffled his mug around, trying to work on something more constructive to say, something exceptionally witty and daring that would keep Oishi talking until he could think up something better to say. "Do you have any pets?" Witty and daring was not forthcoming.

Eiji giggled at that and purred, giving a little wriggle, "He has me!"

Shinji scowled, "I wasn't talking to you. Who asked you to be here anyway? Why don't you just go away, you're sparkly and sexy and useless and I don't want you to be here anymore. Go away."

Oishi kind of agreed with the not wanting Eiji around bit, but his reasons were a bit different. Especially since Eiji was wiggling and pouting and... well, Oishi was shifting a lot himself, trying to find a comfortable way to stand. Still, he couldn't let Shinji act like this.

"Ibu-san, you shouldn't be mean to Eiji," he chided.

Shinji hunched farther over his beer and scooted one seat away from Eiji, obviously sulking. "He deserved it."

"He's been very nice to you," Oishi said. He hated having to defend a demon, but he always had to tell the truth. "You should treat others as you wish to be treated."

Oishi was defending the interloper! Fine! Shinji had his beer! He didn't need Oishi -- to talk to Oishi! -- anyway!

Eiji smirked and stretched. It was absolutely amazing how he didn't have to do anything but sit here and look like his usual dashing self and Oishi would manage to alienate his own charge. Ah, the truth ... it was crueler than any lie. "You say the sweetest things, Oishi-kun. It's almost like hearing an angel speak!"

"Um, um..." Oishi stammered, his thoughts scattered. He couldn't avoid looking at how Kikumaru's "Sex is a sin - sin with me!" shirt rode up to expose his trim abdomen. It really wouldn't hurt to reach out and touch it for a second, to see if the skin was as smooth as it had been in 1874, would it? Oishi wondered.

Shinji felt that eyes should have the power to shoot lasers at people so they can die horrifying deaths. Unfortunately for him and lucky for Eiji, his sudden desire for super powers went unanswered by the most high god. However, it seemed that some other god, perhaps the imp of perversity himself, was listening in ... for the door to the bar swung open and in strode Tezuka.

Tezuka did not believe in bar-hopping as a sport, therefore, his clothes did not reflect the standard in bar-hopping fair. There was a button-down blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up the elbows and dark slacks instead of mesh shirts and low slung hip huggers. Usually Tezuka managed to be mistaken for a salary-man. He nodded to Oishi, ignored Eiji completely (much to Shinji's secret glee), and calmly asked for a beer.

To say that Eiji was put out was an understatement. Eiji was livid. Eiji was filled with hatred and fury. Eiji was ... not going to let this slide! He ordered another jack with coke.

Oishi stared at Tezuka in disbelief and relief - and a very small bit of disappointment which he didn't want to admit to. Tezuka had pulled him out of Eiji's clutches four times in the past, and it looked likely that he would be chalking up another to his tally before all was said and done. "T-Tezuka!" he stuttered, before offering a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"

Like he didn't know.

Tezuka folded his hands, completely unperturbed by Oishi's flustered look. It seemed like Eiji had really been getting to him this time. A good thing Tezuka had decided to drop by. "Checking up on you."

"Ah, that's kind of you," Oishi said as he retrieved the drink for his superior angel. It was flattering, in a way, that an angel of Tezuka's stature would spend so much time making sure he was okay.

Eiji downed his drink in one gulp and rattled the empty glass in a demanding fashion, "Oishi-kun! A little service here!" It was his turn to wish looks could kill as he stared at the side of Tezuka's head.

Tezuka felt not a drop of instant lazer death. In fact, he felt quite healthy! Except for the persistent eye-problem that lingered in all his manifestations, the fall-out from the sight of the blaze of the Host's once brightest star ceasing to exist. Tezuka took a careful sip of his beer and decided it was good, "I worry that you might fall under dubious influences," he replied evenly, "And please put this on Sengoku's tab."

Shinji snickered over his beer. This new arrival was positively wonderful. Eiji was in a snit of fury at being displaced and Sengoku was going to have a flail after finding out someone was ringing up his eternal bar tab.

"Ah..." Oishi put a hand behind his head. "I really don't know..." he said, but then decided he'd rather annoy Sengoku than get on Tezuka's bad side. You just didn't piss off the angel who had vanquished the Big Bad.

Tezuka glanced only barely in Eiji's direction, "How are you, Kikumaru?"

Eiji scowled, "Peachy keen and cherry red. Oishi-kun! What about my drink?!"

"You have one right in front of you, Eiji," Oishi said, unable to remember a second order.

Eiji waves his empty glass again, looking very put out. "Does this look full to you?! I only asked you three times, Oishi-kun!!" He drooped over, shooting a secret furious glance at the archangel sitting next to him, and made a sad little sniff. "You forgot me ... "

"I could never forget you, Eiji!" Oishi said, and he quickly refilled the glass, ignoring the disapproving way Tezuka was looking at him.

Shinji thumped his mug with a snort as Eiji gave Oishi his most hopeful look and asked, "Really?"

Oishi jumped. He couldn't believe he wasn't paying enough attention to Shinji. He was supposed to be redeeming him! Staring at his three patrons, he knew exactly how it felt to have divided loyalties.

The lord of hell liked to hold the biweekly status meetings in his gardens. Sadly for his chief lieutenants - though not unexpectedly - they weren't normal gardens.

Fuji liked cacti. Small, large - it didn't matter. Forget about apples - cacti were where it was at, as far as the master of all evil was concerned.

Niou materialized carefully, managing to land in one of the few spaces that none of the spiky plants occupied. From the whimpering that already filled the space, Dan hadn't been so lucky - but then he'd always been a bit clumsy.

Having mapped out the gardens before hand, run a careful spectrograph over former data, and analyzing the quantity of chaos ... Inui materialized just left of a set of Stenocereus (Machaerocereus) eruca, also known as the creeping devil cactus for the traditionally illiterate. He adjusted his glasses and flipped out his notebook to make the appropriate adjustment to his equations.

Dan, meanwhile, had carefully pried himself from the cacti and the cacti's spines from her person. Mou! Why did Fuji always have to hold these meetings here? He knew Dan was clumsy!

Niou crossed his arms, and wove his way through. Fuji had anti-levitating charms in the area, which meant walking was required. It was positively barbaric... imagine, walking. Next Fuji would put some anti-teleportation wards in, and force people to enter through a door.

Fuji waited for them, idly checking the spines of a devil's tongue (Ferocactus latispinus Inui scribbled down) cactus. He was always first, which gave them no time to plot behind his back. It really wasn't fair - didn't he know somewhere in the Evil Overlord's Handbook that he was Supposed to make a grand and glorious entrance after his peons had gathered?

Dan squirmed his way through the trial by prickles, taking up an assorted collection of pricks, pokes, and just all out stabs before he finally came into Fuji's Presence, where he sighed and flopped down on his buns with a pout, wobbling his eyes in the Lord of Evil's direction.

Inui slid in beside Dan, notoriously poke free, and sat down on nothing. Nothing was Inui's preferred seating of choice, since chairs actually soothed one's associates ... the associates that weren't numbered in Hell's Infernally Best, that is.

Niou, being Niou, chose a likely looking cactus and plopped on it, after casting an impenetrable charm on his own skin. It was chancy to do so, since Fuji could decide at any moment to undo it, but those little challenges were what made life worth living. Last time he'd turned a cactus into a sofa, and that hadn't gone over well... it was better to learn from it.

Fuji, luckily, seemed amused by Niou's audacity, chuckling as he turned his attention to his top three. On his face was a smile that had fooled millions, but the entire group was smart enough to realize it was simply a mask for the most sadistic mind in existence. "How is everyone today?" he asked.

"I was fine until I came, desu," Dan informed him, pointedly rubbing an arm.

Inui's answer is smooth as silk, "Sufficiently positive, thank you. You?"

Niou merely slumped down so he was a bit more comfortable on the cactus and raised an eyebrow. "I hereby motion we postpone this meeting until last week."

They ignored him. He made the same motion at every meeting.

"You should look into that rut you've fallen into, Niou," Inui murmured, stretching his long legs out.

"I think these meetings are a rut," Niou shot back. "They're a waste of time."

"Of course they are," Fuji agreed pleasantly. "That's why we have them. People expect hell to have board meetings discussing the bottom line and performance goals."

"No, they don't. We didn't use to have them!"

"We didn't use to have so much middle-management," Fuji replied. "Don't you read Dilbert?"

Dan sighs. Niou was so right. They used to get to run completely wild ... what fun that used to be. "I don't see why we have to structure our lives to mortal expectations."

"I'd hate to disappoint them," Fuji said, and the puppy-dog like look on his face matched Dan at his best.

"It's not like they're even going to know about these meetings when they get here, desu ... "

"Yes, but we will, and I think the quality of the work we do is reflected by our sincerity," Fuji replied.

"Sincerity? This is hell!" Niou spat. "There's nothing sincere about it!"

There were agreeing nods from Dan and Inui, though Inui just agreed because he wanted to see Fuji's return to that and not because he actually had anything against the board meetings.

The look of disappointment on Fuji's face was heartbreaking - had any of them any hearts to break. "Niou, I would have thought you of all people would have understood. The best lie is one that comes from the heart."

Dan folded his arms over his narrow chest and pouted, "We don't have hearts."

"Indeed. We don't even have internal organs since we don't need them," Inui supplied.

Fuji tsked. "I'm surrounded by people who don't understand the metaphorical. No wonder we haven't managed to have Armageddon yet."

Dan sulkily poked a bit of rock with his toe, "Armageddon this, Armageddon that ... what bout having some fun, desu? All we do is work, work, work."

"Yes, speaking of that..." Fuji's voice lowered a bit, indicating he was ready to get down to business. "When's the next time we'll be seeing Akutsu, Dan-kun?"

"Soon ... " Dan sighed, flopping back on the gravel and pushing his headband farther into his hair, "I'll get him back soon."

"Still having problems with Kawamura?" Niou teased.

Dan scowled, which looked more like a pout, really, "I can handle Kawamura. He's not really paying attention anymore."

"I miss seeing Akutsu around here," Fuji said almost gently. "The place really isn't the same without him." The statement, while mild, was a warning.

"He'll be coming back soon, desu. Soon."

Inui opened his notebook. He didn't need to, but he felt like checking it anyway, "Even if we were to gain Akutsu, it is most a 100 probability that we will lose him again."

"So? It's fun while it lasts," Niou replied, twisting his hair between his fingers. "Speaking of fun, Inui, do you have any predictions on Ryoma's latest venture?"

"Venture?" Inui echoed, rapidly filling paper.

"Didn't you hear?" Niou gleefully bounced, ignoring the quills. "He's working on damning the granddaughter of the miko who exorcised Nanjirou!" Dan squeaked, but Niou merely smirked. "Of course, he didn't realize it was Ryuuzaki-sama's granddaughter in the first place... it was chance he ended up there, I think..."

Fuji snickered to himself, earning a suspicious look from Niou. "Ah, funny how things work out, isn't it?"

Niou seemed to consider whether it was wise to challenge the guy who signed his paychecks, but apparently decided not to. "Anyway, apparently Ryuuzaki-sensei has his number... he's cleaning floors like an apprentice..."

Now Fuji was laughing outright. "I have a Porsche I need him to do when he gets back..."

Niou ignored him again. "...and meanwhile, Kirihara is getting ahead of him in what Ryoma's original target was, and damning a whole college math class!"

There was a flurry of paper and scribbling from Inui while Dan giggled, "Polishing floors, desu! If only Kirihara heard about that ... " he trailed off in thought before grinning in an almost angelic fashion.

Inui added the final plus mark and let the equation tally itself up, "Interesting. On current data, we have a 95 chance of damning the granddaughter, but a 50 chance of losing Ryouma in the process. She must have a little miko blood in her."

"She's completely clueless. She's no Ryuuzaki-sama," Niou said smugly. "Though I can't figure out why Ryuuzaki-sama hasn't just performed a ritual and exorcized him, too. I mean, she got rid of Nanjiroh."

That in itself was an accomplishment. Nanjiroh had been one of the four greatest demons in hell, equal to Inui, Niou and Dan. He'd been older than all of them, and more perverted as well. It'd been about forty years since he'd been vanquished, but the shock was still having repercussions through Hell. Many devils were fighting for the coveted spot of fourth advisor to the Lord of Hell, and whoever won it would have a prize indeed. Right now it looked like a dead heat between Ryoma, who had been Nanjiroh's "son," and Kirihara, who was amazingly talented and had Fuji's special attention.

"Maybe she likes watching him wash floors?" Dan asked brightly, giggling a bit at the thought of Ryuuzaki-sama looming over a tiny Ryouma devil.

"Maybe she likes watching cute boys bend over?"

"That too!"

"Or maybe she's plotting something else," Fuji suggested. "Speaking of plotting, I heard that Sengoku was hanging around Kirihara?"

"I believe Yagyuu made a statement to the effect that Sengoku had found the 'bleed hell dry' button," Inui supplied, referring to the notebook, which could basically be said to be the all-knowing that didn't live in heaven.

Dan groans, "I though Sengoku was busy with the Florida election ... wait, that was Sanada, desu."

Niou preened. It had been one of his nicest bits of work in years. "I'm already working with Touji on teaching hackers how to mess with the new voting machines," he said proudly.

Inui looked interested, "Really? I am impressed. May I look over your figures?"

"Then what's Sengoku been doing?" Dan looks over at Inui, expecting him to know all the answers.

Distracted from the search for data, Inui flips to the very small section headed by Sengoku's name. Name, rank, serial number. This wasn't going to do. He sighed, "My data is inconclusive in this matter."

Niou had often heard of Sengoku, but didn't really know much about him. "He's a bit of a mystery, isn't he?" he said, perking up. He did love new toys.

Dan shrugged a bit, scratching at one of his cactus wounds, "He's just hard to track down, desu. He's not one of the flashy angels." He looked up at Niou through a fringe of dark hair and blinked equally dark eyes innocently at him.

Niou found it annoying that Dan was one of the oldest beings in existence and didn't even look old enough to shave. Talk about packaging with false advertising. "Well, I'm sure he's finding Kirihara plenty flashy enough for the both of them."

For some reason, Fuji laughed at that.

"Is there anything else?" Niou asked testily, wanting to get out of there. Yagyuu had hinted that he had plans for that afternoon, and he wanted to know what - maybe they could screw. Of course, that was what they did every afternoon, but it was still fun.

Inui closed his notebook, "I can not think of anything to add, though I would still like to get together with Muromachi," he inclines his head in Niou's direction. It paid to be at least somewhat polite, "If you have no objections."

Dan just shook his head, poking at a tiny cacti by snaking his finger through the thorns. He wondered idly if he could stab the little thing back in exchange for his travel wounds.

"Fine, fine! We're out of here!" Niou said, standing up and preparing to take off.

"Oh, I have something!" Fuji suddenly chimed in, as though the thought just occurred to him.

Shit, Niou thought, knowing better than to buy that. Fuji had probably been saving it just for that moment. He knew there was nothing worse than to keep people longer.

Dan pretended to look attentive (while still deciding what horror to wreak on the prickly equivalent to shrubbery) and Inui's notebook snapped back open with an audible metaphoric crack. "Do tell."

"I'm going on vacation! Take care of the shop while I'm gone!" A suitcase appeared on top of one of the cacti, and Fuji was suddenly wearing a horrible Hawaiian shirt. He waved his fingers cheerfully, and then with a poof of melodramatic smoke, he vanished.

Niou stared at the spot where Fuji had vanished in shock, for once truly taken aback. "What in Hell did the Devil just do?" he bellowed, wondering if the Apocalypse was about to start, and who had forgotten to send him the memo.

Dan came close to whining as he flopped back on the ground, "Awww, man ... he always does this! I don't wanna take care of the garden, desu! You do it, Inui."

"Do not be absurd, I'm much too busy ... Niou can do it."

"I saw we leave it to Oshitari. Delegate, my friends," Niou said, a frown on his features. "If you can pry Mukahi off him long enough..."

Dan smiled angelically and stabbed the cactus with a suddenly sharp finger, "Let's have Taki do it. Then if anything goes wrong, desu .... "

Inui adjusted his glasses, "The idea has merit."

Normally Niou would have gleefully anticipated the downfall of one of his subordinates, but he was actually worried - well, as worried as he got. Scenarios about what Fuji was really up to danced through his head, and none of them boded well for Niou's continuing his streak as the most successful meddler on earth. "The last time Fuji went on vacation, didn't his ship hit an iceberg?" he asked.

Inui idly watched Dan turn the cactus into fillet. Fuji on a vacation was a time of great interest and jockeying for position. He was already looking forward to the applications of the fallout. "Yes. The Titantic, I believe."

"And.... the time before that, there was the volcano and that cute little Greek village..." Niou drawled, crossing his arms. He could just think of the fun, and he almost cried.

Dan moved on to the second cactus, "I remember Pompey ... it had the best kabobs in the Greece. And the prettiest women, desu."

"I think that might be only your fond recollection. I believe the women in Corinth were much more attractive."

"Though the Greek men were all pretty ugly..." Niou said with a sigh. This time he did stamp his foot. "Do you realize what he just did to us?"

"Left us with the bag while he has fun?" Inui asked, with something near innocence.

"And Inui wins what's behind door number two! We're stuck here!" Niou wailed. He'd thought about going up and checking in on Kirihara - and maybe critiquing his seduction attempts while he was at it - but without the Lord of Hell in Hell, all three of the highest-ranking demons would be needed to keep things from going to, well, complete and utter...

Well, you get the idea. Some sense of order had to be kept, even though it was against Niou's nature.

Dan beams brightly at Niou, like he just won the real prize behind door number two, "But that's the /idea/, Niou-san! He left us behind! All /alone/, desu. Completely in charge, desu!"

Moments like these remind Inui why Dan is both one of the Four and one of the oldest among them. He had a mind for taking advantage of every opportunity that was handed to him on a platter, "Perhaps Dan and I can handle the leg work if you would like to continue your plans, Niou?"

Niou knew he was caught like a fish in a trap - which was exactly what Fuji had probably intended. He was smart enough to realize that Fuji would ultimately manage to reclaim his position with ease... but for Niou to keep his own, he'd have to fight for it.

Oh, well. He'd been falling into a routine, anyway.

"Maybe we should have a few... shakedown drills?" Niou suggested. A slight smile curved his lips. "And I believe Yagyuu might have a few suggestions as well on how we can balance our books a bit better?"

"It would be beneficial to employ a few cost cutting measures. Hellish Communications is slowing down operations by 25."

"I can think of several," Niou said. A grin lit his face as he started to think of several possibilities. Corporate restructuring was such fun!

Math class: the place at which young people come together to exhibit extreme unhappiness about their ability to pass. Study period: the time during math class in which the professor finally gets fed up with attempting to pound knowledge into thick heads and goes to his office to have some coffee ... with maybe a generous dose of gin. Group: the place in which students sitting in the general vicinity of one another come together to talk instead of actually do work.

This Group was where Sengoku was now, chatting it up with his usual cohort in crime, the demon that was supposed to be his rival (if we spoke technically of how these things are supposed to work), the smooching two-some, and the poor fool who just kept getting stuck with them.

Sengoku spun his pencil absently, "So ... I wonder how many angels fit on the head of a pencil."

Yuuta looked at him strangely. "It depends if they've manifested into a human form or not," he said.

"Huh?" The look Kamio gave him was of sheer bewilderment.

Yuuta, though, had already lost interest in the conversation, returning his attention instead to the imaginary numbers which he just couldn't wrap his imagination around.

Saeki's face got that look that said he was prepared to be sufficiently amused by anything Yuuta was prepared to say and by god he hoped Sengoku could keep him going. Anything with Yuuta plus religion was bound to be just good crack.

The pencil spun again, "Well, if they were humans they probably wouldn't fit on here, so what about if they weren't?"

"An infinite number, and none. I've heard that riddle before," Kamio said crossly. "Can we please get back to work?" He was so sick of this study group - he was trying to get at least a B, and there was no way that'd happen if these incompetents kept pulling him down.

Sengoku pretends to look affronted, "This isn't a riddle! This is an important theological question! Up there with the nature of good and evil! It's ... like ... fundamental!"

"I always found the fundamentalists fun," Kirihara said. "So ready to damn others..." His eyes gleamed as he taunted his counterpart.

"I'm an atheist," Kamio pronounced, lying through his teeth. "What's the answer to number twelve? I got 42."

"Damning others ... isn't it that you damn yourself, though?" Sengoku struggles briefly over making a joke about 42 before grinning, "I dunno, Kamio ... if I told you the answer, would you remove that stick from your ass and join us?"

Kamio scowled. "This is a math class. Go take a religion or philosophy class if you want to talk about god."

"You'd reject wisdom, then? Just because you don't like the who, when, and where of the source?"

Kirihara slung an arm around Kamio's shoulder, earning himself a dirty look. "It would be a different matter if it was wisdom, but you know what they say about not suffering fools."

Sengoku acknowledges Kirihara's deft maneuver with a nod, "Eh, we're wondering off the subject ... what were we talking about? The nature of good and evil?"

"You tell me. You started this," Kirihara said. "I think it was something about pins and needles..."

"Angels and devils?"

"How about which people would rather be?" Kirihara challenged, tilting his head at Saeki. "What do you think?"

Saeki considered it, mainly because anything was better than doing more math and hey, lookit Kamio get annoyed. He flashed an easy grin, "I'd be a devil, since it's not like I'm making it to heaven anyway."

"Even though heaven's got all the big guns?" Sengoku asks, looking amused.

"Shit, I don't have to like, work at being a devil. I'll just sit there and be the demon of laziness or something."

"Demons don't get to be lazy," Kirihara said in amusement. "Why do you think there's such hell on earth?"

"Speaking from experience?" Kamio asked, finally managing to push his chair out of arm's reach of both Kirihara and Sengoku. He leveled another Look on them, before trying to return to his math.

"Maybe. I'd be you'd be an angel, with that stick shoved up your ass."

"I do not have a stick shoved up my ass!"

"Prove it!"

Kamio stood up, grabbed Kirihara's book, and whacked him a good one square in the head. "Devilish enough for you?"

"Fuck you," Kirihara said, while inwardly gloating. There was hope for Kamio yet.

Saeki groaned, "Forget it, I'll just die and go to hell where I can do jack except burn."

Sengoku managed to look put out that Kamio hadn't thought him obnoxious enough to smack, "I'm hurt, Kamio ... you don't love me! Where was my beating?"

"You can go find someone else to whack you. He's my dom," Kirihara purred in return.

"Didn't you ever learn to share?"

"Sharing is good, and that's something for angels. We've already decided that both Saeki and Kamio are going to hell, so... what about you, Mizuki?" Kirihara asked, snapping Mizuki out of his exploration of Yuuta's throat with his tongue. "Or is that a moot question?"

"Ah, but sharing during sex is a sin, and that's something for devils-"

Mizuki sends Kirihara this look that stated quite clearly that he was interrupting his smut. With three pairs of vaguely interested eyes and one pair of disgusted ones, he realized that he was probably not going to escape from this with just a glare, so in the interest of getting back to his smut he answered, "Speaking purely philosophically ... an angel, of course. You could ever doubt?"

Saeki choked and had to be whacked on the back by Sengoku. "There, there, Saeki, I know it's a load of horse shit, but there was no need to swallow it."

Yuuta looked at where Mizuki's hand was, and then up at his lover's eyes in disbelief. "Mizuki, you sin every day! Why do you think you're going to heaven? You never show any repentance for anything!"

"I suppose then you'll be joining me, since you're sinning with me," Mizuki sniffed, pulling his hand away and folding it across his chest, miffed, "Not that it matters, of course, since there is no such thing as heaven or hell."

Kirihara and Sengoku's eyes met. It figured that Mizuki was an atheist - and since atheists believed in nothing, they got exactly that when they died. Nothing. Oblivion. Void.

Kirihara almost pitied him. Almost.

Yuuta, though, pushed Mizuki's hand away, his breathing beginning to quicken the way it did whenever they had sex - but the expression on his face was anything but aroused. It approached panic. "How can you believe in nothing?" he demanded.

Mizuki arched an eyebrow, "Quite easily. There's no evidence to support anything like god."

Sengoku spun his pencil absently, amused despite himself about how one could take a class that proved the hand of divine creation and not realize it.

"There's plenty of evidence! All you need to do is look around you!" said Yuuta fervently.

"Evidence for evolution, not for god," Mizuki pointed out primly.

"Don't you believe in miracles?" Yuuta asked wistfully, and his heart was in his eyes as pain shimmered there.

"I believe in unexplainable events, which become explained once man gets around to doing a little legwork."

Yuuta looked about ready to pitch a fit, and Kirihara waited with eagerness. Maybe the perfect couple could have a nasty break-up that would damage both of them... It was delicious.

Sengoku leaned back in his seat and stuck his pencil behind his ear, folding his fingers in front of himself thoughtfully, "There is nothing unexplainable because everything in the world works upon a set of principles, like a computer works on chips and electricity. But where did the principles come from?"

Mizuki frowned, distracted from Yuuta's fit by the simple and altogether amazing fact that Sengoku was not giggling like a fool in the background. "They were already there."

"How did they get there?"

"Well ... the Big Bang."

"So you expect me to believe that an accidental, unprecedented explosion in the midst of nothingness manage to construct a set of laws that works together so flawlessly that nothing in the universe spontaneously combusts?"

Mizuki paused and then scowled, glowering darkly at the unpleasant feeling that even if he were to retort, Sengoku would have an answer that would back him even farther into the corner he was being trapped in. He sniffed and changed the subject, "What about you? You're no angel."

"I never claimed to be one!" Sengoku smirks.

"Never?" Kirihara said, drawling the word slowly. He had his prey set in his sights - Sengoku was well and truly trapped. Kirihara knew that in some point in his career, Sengoku had probably announced himself, and... well, this was a beautiful lie.

A slow serpentine smile slid its way across Sengoku's face as green eyes shifted from Mizuki to Kirihara, "Never."

"Then you'd prefer to be a devil, then?" Kirihara was stunned, unable to believe how Sengoku had managed that.

"There's a certain freedom in evil, neh? Being an angel would be kinda limiting."

Kirihara didn't understand it! Sengoku was an angel... wasn't he?

Suddenly suspicious, he shut his eyes and tapped into a bit of his inner power, before opening them briefly. The "other sight" allowed him a closer look at Sengoku's aura... and he was nearly blinded by the power of it.

Yuuta, who had been watching them with interest, stared at Kirihara. Had he imagined it, or had his eyes just turned the color of blood for the briefest of instances? He rubbed his own eyes, and Kirihara's eyes were that pretty blue-green he rather envied, so... well, maybe he needed more sleep.

Kirihara felt like he'd been hit by a truck. The aura he'd seen had been one of the most powerful he'd ever looked at - but it was definitely angelic, despite the strange coloration and ambiguity to parts of it. His head was splitting, and his usual sarcasm fell beneath sheer confusion.

Who on earth - or in heaven or hell, whichever applied - was Sengoku?


	4. The Long Dark Penal Tea Time of the Soul

Paved with Good Intentions  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.  
Summary: In Which There is Tea, Houseguests of all Kinds, and the Damning of Mortals

* * *

****  
  
_Purgatory: The final frontier. These were the travels of the angel Yanagi, in his mission to... _  
  
Bad Star Trek jokes seemed to follow Yanagi ever since the character Spock had been developed. Yukimura teased him that it was his own fault for manifesting in Gene Roddenbury's dreams, but that's a different story The subject of today was Purgatory, and the mission was tea. With a devil. It was all out of a bad novel, and Yanagi was terrified what would happen if anyone found out. He did not need to be the subject of more bad religious epics.  
  
Purgatory was not the baby-flames and gentle suffering those above believed it to be. Rather, it was more along the lines of the extreme stress and boredom of the Department of Motor Vehicles. Souls stood endlessly in line, waiting desperately for some attendant to fill some order they didn't know with a deadline they were sure was fast approaching or had expired six months ago. It was even decorated in that tacky pale yellow and puke green of the sixties in which the first and most lasting of these establishments had been created on earth.  
  
There were a comfortable table and two chairs laid out in midair over a line of exceptionally bored and stressed looking souls. The table was laid with a homey-looking red and white checkered tablecloth, the chairs were white and black wrought iron, and the umbrella over the whole shebang was striped in white and blue. It was very Italian Bistro. Inui sat very comfortably on one of the chairs, pouring two cups of tea that had a dubious look to them, being one of his special blends (Inui Penal Tea to be specific, one of the milder concoctions in his repertoire).  
  
"Good day, Yanagi. How are you? I hope the trip was without difficulty."  
  
"No worse than usual." Descending from heaven wasn't a pleasant experience, since it pretty much meant giving up everything good and pure and having to come face-to-face with this nasty thing called _reality_, but Yanagi had learned to tolerate it. "Yours?"  
  
Moving up had always been easier than moving down, though reality was often just as distasteful to devils as it was to angels. One was always so restricted outside of hell. "Quite acceptable," Inui replied, setting the teapot down and exchanging it for the sugar, which he spooned generously into his cup. Sugar added an additional kick to an already unstable collection of spices.  
  
Yanagi considered Inui Juice one of the trials of his life. He'd learned through long experience that if he didn't partake, Inui would become obsessed with feeding him and the whole visit became a wash. It was a subtle challenge, and Yanagi knew enough not to back down. With a sigh, he added a lot of cream, hoping to dilute it. It meant he'd have to drink more, but hopefully it wouldn't be as potent as it was straight. Almost as an afterthought, he dumped in sugar, wondering if _this time_ it would mask its taste. Hope sprang eternal, especially for the angelic.  
  
"I hope you find the choice of beverage acceptable," Inui said, just to dig the knife in. He momentarily contemplated pulling out his notebook, a habit he knew he should consider dropping but was loathe to part with, before deciding it wasn't necessary, "Anything you wished to discuss, Renji?"  
  
This was why they met. The two were the unofficial liaisons between heaven and hell, and their monthly tea sessions contained information exchanges and other business that helped keep things running smoothly. Occasionally messages would be passed through them, but that was more rare.  
  
Yanagi tended to prepare a list of matters to discuss, and he knew Inui did the same. Both were methodically - some would say obsessively - organized. "I'm curious about your Kirihara. And Echizen... both of them seem to be toying in some chancy business."  
  
Inui weighed the benefits of sharing information on the two and finally decided that it was beneficial to him if he could then use it to find out what Sengoku was doing, "Echizen seems to have gotten distracted. Originally, his intent was to interfere with Kirihara, who was on a standard 'class damning' mission before he ran into Sengoku. I do not suppose you have any information in regards to why he would be involved?"  
  
"Sengoku has always defied all of our predictions," Yanagi said calmly. "He tends to do whatever he wants, and gets away with it. I've tried speaking to Sanada and Yukimura alone, but they told me to let that sleeping dog lie."  
  
It had been worth a try. Inui took a sip of his tea, leaning back. "It's come to my attention that Sanada has been called back. I admit to being curious about the why of that."  
  
Yanagi hated having to supply this kind of vulnerable tactical information, but he knew it was part of the game. "It's your Kikumaru's fault," he said.  
  
"Ah," Inui nodded briefly. It made sense that the possible fallout of another Oishi/Kikumaru confrontation would demand archangel intervention, though usually it was Tezuka who handled things concerning Oishi. He said at much. "Is that not usually Tezuka's domain?"  
  
"That hasn't changed. However, with Tezuka gone, we're short staffed in Heaven, so..." Yanagi stared at his cup, swishing the liquid around. Were those _bugs eyes_ floating in it? "It's a personnel restructuring. Sanada said to tell you to warn Niou that if he messed with Florida again in the next century, he was going to chop his ponytail off."  
  
Inui chuckled, more than happy to watch his colleague lose that precious ponytail of his. "I do not know, I think he might be cuter without that rat's tail dragging -- wait, you said Tezuka was _gone_?"  
  
"Yes... that's not entirely unprecedented - he pretty much goes down and fishes Oishi out every time Kikumaru finds him." Yanagi managed to sound dry and supportive at the same time. "Didn't your data say that would be likely?"  
  
"It did, but," Inui paused, mulling briefly before speaking, "Fuji just left on vacation."  
  
The revelation hit Yanagi like a sledgehammer. "It could just be coincidence...." he said in a dead voice, knowing exactly what was coming.  
  
"There is no such thing as coincidence," Inui replied, caught between glee at Yanagi's horror and a bit of dread of the possibilities of a match between Tezuka and Fuji. This could have bad repercussions for Hell. Especially if Fuji forced Tezuka into a situation similar to the one that had brought down the Big Bad.  
  
"I know..." Yanagi sighed. "Everything happens by divine will." Shaking his head, he placed his elbows on the table. "So... Fuji is chasing after Tezuka again. Last time that ship got in the way... it was a disaster."  
  
"Indeed," Inui said agreeably, smirking a bit at the thought of another such disaster. Finally unable to resist habit and pulled out his notebook, skimming down through recent events again, "It is convenient that Kikumaru found Oishi ..."  
  
Yanagi knew it was a headache waiting to happen. His calculations had it as practically inevitable that Oishi _would_ someday Fall for the demon... just not for another few centuries or so. He really didn't want to think of the consequences - and he liked less the consequences of Fuji and Tezuka breathing the same air.  
  
It was best, then, to put it in terms that Inui would care about. "Theoretically speaking, what happens if Tezuka falls?"  
  
Inui adjusted his glasses, the smirk widening with barely contained glee, "That would be ... quite beneficial to Hell." And exceptionally beneficial to him. With Tezuka inside Inui's radius, he'd finally be able to examine him to his heart's content, perhaps even crack all the secrets of power that had brought about Lucifer's demise. Secrets that Inui could then use against _Fuji ... _  
  
"Tezuka is the most powerful of the Archangels. I would wager he comes close to Fuji in sheer levels of power, in fact." Yanagi considered carefully how to phrase what he was going to say next. "I could easily see Fuji having to shift his current organizational structure to accommodate for the sudden shift."  
  
The smirk faded as Inui considered the future that might linger beyond the acquisition of Tezuka. Reorganization was a probability, but there was _already_ an empty space within the Four, one easily suited for someone like Tezuka. Inui relaxed incrementally and settled himself in his chair, "Doubtful. Nanjirou's unfortunate circumstances has left Hell quite accommodating to someone of Tezuka's caliber."  
  
"Indeed. However, my calculations also show that there are two promising young demons who have power levels that currently exceed... certain members... of Fuji's current executive staff. Without the open slot for them to fight over...." he trailed off. "Well, I wouldn't want to be the one they decided was the easiest target. They might decide to work together to knock him off before going at each other."  
  
Damn Yanagi's logic. Inui flipped some pages and entered the appropriate information, watching his calculations run themselves. Someone annoyed at the outcome they provided him, he flipped the book shut, focusing on Yanagi once more, outwardly calm, "They are still young. Easily dealt with."  
  
"You know as I do the potential of their power," Yanagi said. "Do you really want to tangle with them? Wouldn't it just be easier to nip the problem in the bud, and leave them squabbling with each other?"  
  
Inui's glinted in the fluorescent lighting, "Are you implying that we should interfere with Fuji and Tezuka?"  
  
"Of course not. We're watchers. We observe and record, but never interfere," Yanagi said, managing to sound scandalized.  
  
"It is getting crowded down there."  
  
"Going down is the easy part. Speaking of which, do I ship Akutsu's luggage to the same address as usual this time? I think it'll be two years at best."  
  
"Please. Fuji provided incentive, I believe it will be one."  
  
"Sounds about right." Yanagi looked at the watch on the wall, noticing it had just clicked a minute closer to Doomsday. "It's getting late. I have to get going..."  
  
"So soon? You have not taken even a sip of your tea," Inui almost smiled as he lined Yanagi up in his sights.  
  
Yanagi managed not to wince. He _had_ hoped Inui wouldn't notice.

* * *

Oishi's stipend from heaven was incredibly meager. As bookkeepers, the Jimmies kept keen eyes on things. It was a bit amusing that it took two of them to replace Yagyuu, but it wasn't anything a wise angel pointed out. They were both fiercely individualistic, always yelling together whenever anyone pointed out how close they were.  
  
Oishi was a kind creature, so he let them keep their illusions. The problem was that they were determined to show that they were better than Yagyuu had been (sadly not true - no one could squeeze a penny until it screamed for mercy like Yagyuu), so they would cut, and cut, and cut from the budget... and usually in the wrong place. That was why Oishi was currently rooming in a one-room flat whose plumbing went out of order on alternating Tuesdays.  
  
As an archangel, Tezuka's cut of the budget was a bit higher than Oishi's, but considering whose soul he was trying to keep on the path of straight and true, he chose to mooch. Which was what had him knocking calmly at Oishi's door and ignoring the neighbors who were screaming things at each other over a barbecue.  
  
Tezuka's presence radiated like a small sun, and even from inside Oishi knew who it was. He wasn't used to visitors, and he bit his lip, looking around his immaculate (and barren) apartment, wondering if he dared invite his superior in. His hands acted before he could have a mental conflict, though, and he found himself unlocking the door.  
  
"Hello, Oishi," was Tezuka's even greeting as he focused on Oishi, then flicked his gaze around the apartment before resettling them on his subordinate and somewhat friend. It was a praise even left unspoken in Tezuka's thoughts. Tezuka didn't have much in the way of 'friends', preferring to remain at a distance.  
  
Oishi nodded his head, deciding not to be too formal. This was his place, after all. "Tezuka. Can I get you something to drink? I think I can make some tea..." he said, remember some pre-packaged green tea he'd picked up on first moving in two weeks ago.  
  
"Tea would be fine." Tezuka stepped inside and out of the doorway, idly hoping that a shut door might block out some of the impassioned screaming from next door.  
  
Oishi had long since learned to ignore it. He glanced around, wondering where to sit Tezuka down. There was only a very tiny table and a chair in the living area, with a gallery kitchen looking out into it. The closet-size bedroom barely fit Oishi's twin bed. He had to stand on it to get clothes out of his closet. And the bathroom made airplane restrooms look spacious  
  
Tezuka solved the problem of seating by dipping into his power and pulling the idea of a folding chair from the ethereal and making it substance in the real. It thunked to the floor beside the other chair with a clunk, rattling in the manner of folding chairs before settling. Tezuka sat down on it, folding long legs beside the table since beneath it wasn't exactly big enough to accommodate him comfortably.  
  
Oishi blushed a bit. Tezuka's casual display of power was why he was an Archangel and Oishi would never be one. Oishi's power levels were steady, but he would never be the stuff of legends. He had to conserve what he had in case of emergencies. "Um, I'll go make it," he said belatedly. He puttered around the kitchen a bit, finding a pot and filling it before setting it on the antique stove. Two slightly cracked mugs were located, and he dug around in his cupboard, looking for sugar. Unable to locate it, he came back a bit ashamed.  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't have any sugar or anything," he apologized.  
  
"I like it plain." Despite the easy displays of power, Tezuka was as personally bland as gruel. His heavenly office? Neat and furnished with the usual standard office decor, but empty. No desk clutter, no pictures, no excessive plush. His earthly manifestation slid into the background at earthly engagements, blending into the namelessness that is the salary man.  
  
The smile Oishi gave him was blinding. "You're so kind, Tezuka."  
  
Few people called Tezuka kind. In fact, there had only been one other who had... but he was gone now. For that and that alone, he named Oishi as a friend. An absurdly short list currently consisting of only two angels. Tezuka fingered the rims of his glasses instead of replying.  
  
Oishi finally decided that he was done in the kitchen for a while, coming out to take the chair. "Were you planning on staying for a while?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. If you don't mind," he added as an after thought.  
  
Oishi knew exactly why Tezuka was there, and didn't want to bring it up. "It's not a problem." Of course it wasn't. As long as Tezuka was there, he wouldn't have a chance to be seduced by Eiji.  
  
Why did he think he heard some very small part of himself crying?  
  
"Good." Tezuka could admit to being selfish and wanting Oishi to stay with _him_ instead of following after Kikumaru. Of course, he only admitted it because it also happened to coincide with the idea of rescuing others from temptation.  
  
They were quiet as Oishi tried to find a neutral topic of some kind. "Um, Sengoku's been hanging around a demon." Maybe that would be enough of a smokescreen, even though he was pretty sure Tezuka already knew.  
  
Tezuka inclined his head slightly. "Yes," he paused and finally decided he should probably make an effort to hold up his end of the conversation if he was staying with Oishi. "He does that sometimes."  
  
"Should we be worried? The demon seemed rather bent on getting on his good side..." Oishi tried to remember his name. "Kirihara. That's his name - isn't he rather new?"  
  
"A few hundred years old, still pretty young." Tezuka could recall being that young (and stupid and stubborn -- the stubborn part hadn't changed, people just called it determination now) and it was a strange thing to have so much time between then and now. "It's something to keep an eye on, but most likely Sengoku is putting Kirihara through a ... test drive?"  
  
"Test drive?" Oishi echoed, a bit confused. Then again, everything Sengoku did confused him.  
  
"Toying with him, like a cat," that twitch was a shrug, "To see if he'll be entertaining enough to poke at later."  
  
"Poke... at? Isn't that a bit... demonic? Isn't he one of the good guys?"  
  
"Yes." Tezuka was calm and assured, as though he had no doubts about Sengoku and never would. "I believe he just bores easily."  
  
Oishi didn't understand how a person could be bored in heaven - oh, who was he kidding? He spent half his time daydreaming about Kikumaru. "Still..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Isn't it a bit... dangerous... to toy around with a demon?" Like he didn't know from first-hand experience.  
  
"It is, but he's not stupid."  
  
_Neither am I, and look at the mess I'm in,_ Oishi wanted to say, but thankfully the shrill whistle of the tea kettle stopped him. He stood hastily, knocking his chair back, and getting his legs tangled. His balanced wavered, faltered, and then he tipped over completely, landing in Tezuka's lap.  
  
Tezuka blinked, staring down in complete astonishment at his lap, which was suddenly full of Oishi. His fingers coiled around the other angel's shoulders and he tugged a little, as if to help him up, though admittedly the angle for it was wrong.  
  
Oishi wanted to drop dead - well, not exactly, since he was an angel, but he seriously wished for a convenient way out of his predicament. Ending up sprawled on your superior just wasn't a good career move, and he wondered if the room was getting hot...  
  
Tezuka blinked again. Why wasn't Oishi just moving? It was obviously an accident. "Did you want to stay there?"  
  
"Ah- no! Um, sorry!" The kettle continued its demands, the noise piercing through anything he might have said. He tried to scramble to his feet, but in the process he landed his hands on some rather interesting places on Tezuka's body. "Sorry!" he apologized again, finally making it upright and then dashing for the kitchen.  
  
There would have been some undignified flailing if this had been anyone except Tezuka, but since it was Tezuka, he just shifted around uncomfortably as his interesting places were groped. Then, once Oishi had managed his escape, he set about to straighten his clothes, which suddenly felt horribly mussed, but that might have just been him rather than his clothes.  
  
Oishi returned in about three minutes, his breathing back under control, though he wasn't able to meet Tezuka's eyes as he set the tea in front of him. He managed to find his own seat again, slyly pulling his seat about a foot farther away than it had been previously. He was so embarrassed.  
  
It wasn't obvious to most naked eyes (though Sengoku had proven to have a sixth sense about such things and was known to poke persistently), but Tezuka was also a bit embarrassed. To cover this, and regain his outwardly unruffled composure, he sipped at the tea. "It's good tea."  
  
Oishi took a sip, and decided Tezuka either had no taste buds or was merely acting in a socially acceptable fashion. The tea was beyond bitter, and bits of leaves had escaped the bags. He set it down quickly, deciding to just use the cup to warm his hands. "How long do you think you'll be staying?" he asked.  
  
"I'm not sure." It depended upon how long it took for plans to migrate their way to fruition.  
  
Oishi looked around his apartment, wondering where he was going to put Tezuka. There was no spare couch, and the bed would be a tight squeeze. "Um, all I have is one bed..."  
  
Tezuka regarded the bed for a moment, "I can make another." There would just be wall to wall bed, then.  
  
"You'll have to put it out here. There's no room in the bedroom."  
  
"Point," Tezuka nodded. "I'll pay for my share of the rent."  
  
That wasn't what Oishi had wanted, exactly. But if Tezuka was volunteering to pay for rent, it sounded like he intended to hang around for a while. Which brought about another problem... "Um, Tezuka?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm going to be working at the bar for a while. Remember the assignment you gave me?"  
  
Tezuka did indeed recall. "Yes?"  
  
"You kind of... stick out." Oishi wasn't sure how to phrase this.  
  
"How so?"  
  
It wasn't done to tell someone them resembled a block of wood. "Maybe you could... relax a bit more? Most people go to bars to have a good time."  
  
Tezuka sighed and made an effort to, as Sengoku called it, 'get that stick out of his ass'. It worked, somewhat. "Fun like Kikumaru, I suppose?"  
  
An image of Tezuka in leather pants and a mesh shirt, merrily drinking Screaming Orgasms made Oishi almost choke on his own tongue. "N-no one is like Kikumaru," Oishi managed to stutter out.  
  
An eyebrow raised over thin metal rims. "So I gathered from the view I was getting of his unmentionables." Tezuka's attempting to tease you, Oishi. Really!  
  
It was only through great self-restraint that Oishi didn't dump his tea on the lap he'd landed in ten minutes ago. Jealousy was a sin, after all. "He's just a bit uninhibited."  
  
"Just a bit," Tezuka sighed. Apparently the attempt had not worked as intended. Why couldn't Yukimura be here and do these kind of things instead of him? "Oishi ... "  
  
"Yes?" He dreaded what Tezuka was about to say.  
  
"God is love. Where there is love, there can be no sin." Tezuka lifted his teacup and took a long drought of the wretched brew. There, that wasn't so hard when you just spat it out and pretended to look all-knowing.  
  
Oishi stared at Tezuka, wondering why he was saying something that every angel knew by heart. Tezuka didn't just say things pointlessly, and right now they were discussing Kikumaru, and that _certainly_ didn't involve love- Just wait a minute.  
  
Oishi felt a smile start to form on his face as he began to hatch _A Plan. _

* * *

The first thing Fuji did on teleporting was ditch the awful Hawaiian shirt. As funny as he thought it was, there was no way he'd look like he'd just stepped out of Archangel Atobe's wardrobe for longer than he had to. The next thing on his list was to find accommodation, and rather than booking a posh penthouse suite in some hotel, he decided he was going to make it more... interesting.  
  
Thus, "Suite Moments," a rather upscale love hotel located in Shibuya. The place cost an arm and a leg for a few hours, and Fuji had blithely booked a month. Yagyuu was going to cry when he saw the bill.... something Fuji wished he could witness, but knew he would most likely miss. Such a pity.  
  
It was a bit different than his home turf, strangely quiet as the sound-proof walls kept the screams he was sure were being elicited safely hidden. The hotel looked much like any other, but the hand cuff dispenser and other "treats" stacked in his room were definite not normal fair.  
  
Fuji loved it. He half wished he'd booked the bondage room, instead to the honeymoon suite, but he hoped he'd have time to experiment later.  
  
The room next to Fuji's happened to be called Cascade of Bubbles. It was an exceptionally froofy name for an exceptionally froofy room, but it happened to be accurate, for right above the bed was a spout that spewed bubbles in an iridescent cascade over the satiny plastic sheets. There was also bubble decor, bubble windows, and worst of all ... bubble lube. Kisarazu Atsushi had decided he hated the room on sight. His brother, his _twin_, Ryou, seemed to find it a hoot, so he'd given in and gone for a merry romp on the plastic sheets getting soap residue up the arse and into all his more personal cracks. Atsushi had laid down the law on ever returning, though. He refused, absolutely!  
  
And that was the subject of the twins's discussion when they exited the room, nearly bumping into Fuji.  
  
"But, 'Sushi, didn't you like making love under a thousand floating mirrors?" Ryou asked. He was the romantic one, long dark hair nearly brushing his waist. It was a soapy mess now, but after a good screw, he wasn't complaining about details.  
  
"It got up my nose, put a funny taste in my mouth, and smells like what the girls pour onto their hands during class. We aren't ever booking this room again," Atsushi refused to give in. This was now a matter of important sexual principle.  
  
Fuji looked at the two of them, their obvious genetic similarities beyond striking. Tilting his head, he looked at the twins, recognizing the hint of repetitive incest in their auras. He sniffed the air carefully, and sure enough, the boys had a slight scent of peach to them.  
  
"I think you smell delicious," he said.  
  
Atsushi scowled, instinctively knowing a predator when he heard one. Ryou just smiled pleasantly and looped his arm tighter around Atsushi's, "It is a nice scent, isn't it? I'm thinking about getting some ... "  
  
His short haired brother scowled even more. There was no _way_ he was letting Ryou buy peach scented anything of any kind. The mere thought was a travesty.  
  
"I'd recommend it. It's a very... seductive fragrance." Fuji looked them up and down, deciding that they would do. He hadn't had sex with a mortal in eighty years, and he had always been fond of incestuous brothers.  
  
Ryou smiled, "See, I told you, 'Sushi. Now why _don't_ you like it?"  
  
"Because you smell like a girl."  
  
The smile slipped nearly into a frown, "And ... ?"  
  
"And I don't want you smelling like a girl."  
  
Interesting indeed. Fuji leaned back against the wall, watching as the two began to argue about whose fault it was they were sleeping together in the first place.  
  
An argument which ended with Ryou's sudden snap of, "Just because I'm screwing around with you doesn't mean I'm gay!"  
  
Perfect opening. "If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck...." Fuji started.  
  
The twins shuddered in unison over something that had nothing to do with ducks and everything to do with a loud-mouthed quacker they both happened to know. "If you say 'dane' -- " Atsushi began before Ryou cut him off.  
  
"We aren't duck -- I mean, gay!" he shook his head, making his hair swish, "We're just twins ... twins share everything."  
  
"Mmmhmmmm. But you are attracted to each other, right?"  
  
Atsushi nodded a reluctant yes. Wasn't there some principal of being attracted to yourself? Or at least ... your own looks? Ryou maintained stubbornness, "Doesn't mean anything."  
  
Time to reel them in. "Well... have you tried it with another guy? Or are you just going to bury your heads into the sand to the possibility?"  
  
Ryou sniffed, looking Fuji up and down, "Why? Are you offerin -- "  
  
This time, Atsushi cut him off, "Even if you are, why should we trust you? We don't even know your name."  
  
"My name's Fuji... and there's two of you and one of me, so if I prove untrustworthy, you're stronger, right?" he lied through his teeth. He could turn them into piles of ashes with a twitch of his fingers, but he didn't really need to tell them that. "The only way to prove you're not gay is to make sure."  
  
The twins looked at Fuji and then at each other. Silent communication passed between them as sure as winter turns to summer. There was apparently some sort of disagreement, because heads twitched not quite in unison before something was settled and Ryou turned to Fuji and said, "Alright, we'll take you up on it ... but just this once."  
  
Atsushi muttered something about older perverts until Ryou elbowed him in the side.  
  
Fuji smiled and stepped toward Atsushi, who seemed to be the more reluctant of the pair. Running a hand down his chest, he smiled over at Ryou. "My room is just down the hallway."  
  
Atsushi looked at the hand and then up at Fuji. He did not appear convinced, which didn't matter really since Ryou had already caught his hand and was dragging him along, saying, "The Honeymoon Suite? And you're _alone_ .... how unfortunate!"  
  
Atsushi really wasn't paying attention because Somehow, he thought, this is a really /bad/ idea. He just didn't realize /how/ bad.

* * *

Kirihara's plans of damnation tended to lack subtlety, since his favorite method involved inciting people to riots, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use it. He recognized almost instantly that Tachibana was a bit different than the usual types he dragged into Hell, so he modified his strategy accordingly. It took a bit more time to get into position, but he figured it would be more effective.  
  
For the last week, the class had been studying parametric equations, and he'd carefully turned in homework that was less than his usual perfection. He consistently confused SIN and COS, hoping to lay a pattern that would help him snare his fly. It worked pretty well. The second week into them, Tachibana pulled him aside, asking if they could speak a minute after class.  
  
When it came to the homework, Sengoku hadn't been watching. Sure, he shamelessly copied everything Kirahara wrote down since it irritated the demon, but he slapped his homework together willy-nilly and turned it in, always just short of A material.  
  
What he had been watching, though, was the looks Tachibana had been tossing Kirihara now and again during the help session that was a requirement one had to take with the course. So when Tachibana pulled Kirihara aside, Sengoku perked up his ears, listened in with all the shamelessness that he'd used in copying notes, and resolved to linger after class.  
  
Sakaki spent most of the class trying to grind material into reluctant young minds, and Kirihara tuned him out, bored already. He knew this stuff backward and forward - math was a founding principal of the universe, something demons just came into existence knowing. It was part of the whole divine knowledge thing they had going.  
  
After class, as Kamio darted for the doors like he was bring chased by his worse nightmare (which might have been close to the truth, since Mizuki and Saeki followed, bickering), Tachibana came over to Kirihara's seat. With casual elegance, he claimed the one Kamio usual sat in, turning it slightly to face Kirihara.  
  
"Kirihara, I've noticed your work hasn't been up to its usual standards in the last week or so," he said, concern evident on his face.  
  
Sengoku almost grinned himself silly into his bookbag, which he was industriously packing and unpacking. Kirihara? Master of subtlety? It was to laugh.  
  
Kirihara managed to look a bit abashed. "I'm used to getting it the first time," he said.  
  
"Do you study? I noticed you don't pay much attention in class."  
  
"It's boring if you already know it." And how. He'd been doing these equations before Tachibana's grandfather had been born.  
  
"But you don't seem to know this." He pulled out a sheet from a notebook, a red-marked piece of paper that was Kirihara's homework assignment from last class. "I graded this during class, and you're consistently making the same mistakes."  
  
Sengoku shouldered his bookbag and looked over at Kirihara as he stood, as though waiting on his very best friend in the world. He managed to look woeful, like he'd never heard anything more horrible than his 'friend's' little 'problem'.  
  
Kirihara ignored Sengoku. "Am I?"  
  
Tachibana began to explain exactly how the functions worked, and how he was warping the whole equation by consistently confusing the formula. Kirihara pretended to pay attention, then looked confused and frustrated as he attempted to solve one of those problems.  
  
"I don't get this!" he exclaimed, using the immortal words of many math majors.  
  
Sengoku dropped the act of woeful friend and settled in next to Kirihara with a thump, looking over his shoulder as he always did during class. He also poked him in the back a couple times.  
  
Kirihara's good-student facade was strained, but he counted backward for twenty, waiting for Tachibana to stop Sengoku. Sure enough, when he hit "three," the TA spoke. "Sengoku-san, it's hard for your friend to learn if you're distracting him."  
  
Kirihara almost spat something out about being Sengoku's friend the day the devil converted to Buddhism, but bit his tongue.  
  
Sengoku gave Tachibana his best beaten puppy look before replying smooth as silk, "He has a class soon. We really don't want to be late for it." They did have a class ... it just wasn't in the formal definition of soon ... unless you counted a couple hours versus the length of Sengoku's life, in which case it was indeed soon. Ergo, not a lie.  
  
"I think not failing math is a bit more important!" Kirihara retorted.  
  
Tachibana looked at the both of them, noticing the tension and probably something more. Instead of remarking on it, he nodded his acceptance. "Sengoku-san, I've noticed you're doing pretty well. Would you have time to tutor Kirihara-san?"  
  
Sengoku flashed Tachibana a smile that might have lit the sun, "I would be delighted to tutor Kirihara." He placed a hand over his heart and his other hand on Kirihara's shoulder. "In fact, I promise to make time to tutor him in the mysteries of life, the universe, everything ... and also the math." And if there was anything Sengoku had a lot of, it was time.  
  
"I-" Kirihara opened his mouth to protest, but Tachibana was too quick.  
  
"Thank you, Sengoku-san. Kirihara-san, I trust you'll work hard, won't you?" Tachibana asked, clapping him on the shoulder warmly as he rose to his feet, and then left the room.  
  
Kirihara stared at Sengoku in shocked disbelief, wondering how the trap had closed on him instead of Tachibana.  
  
Sengoku just smiled, that slow serpentine smile that Kirihara would soon learn to equate with satisfaction of a plan well worked. 


	5. A Deal with the Devil

Paved with Good Intentions  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 5 Summary: In Which Glasses Are Fashionable and Blood is Spilt.

* * *

****  
  
The college library was tall and stately, possessing six stories and five wings. Within its hallowed walls were all the books necessary for learning, research, and the pursuit of esoteric knowledge. Such writings as _ Computing for Quantum Physics Using Only a Pencil and a Slide Rule_ and _ Compton's Guide to English Literature from 1620 to 1950 with Excerpts from Bockman Guildenstern_ were a matter of course and obviously contributed greatly to the continuation of learning. It also had the greatest collection of useless knowledge and decrepit reading ever to exist in one place. Real books? What are those? That's crazy talk. Get thee hence, blasphemer!  
  
The aura of imminent waste of paper and breathing space (and possibly the loss of life, consider Kirihara could kill him and stuff his body in the shelves and no one would know ... not even if he started to stink) was probably why Sengoku started choking as they approached their table. "Oh, help - gasp - can't -gasp - breath," he exclaimed while clutching his throat and dramatically falling face first onto a chair.  
  
Kirihara glared at him, trying to ignore the dust. It made his eyes itch and go a bit blood-shot. He wasn't quite sure why he'd chosen to follow Sengoku after being dragged out of math class, and the library was one of his least favorite places. "Why are we _here_?" he demanded, tossing his backpack on the table. "You know just as well as I do that I don't need help with those equations."  
  
"Oh, I know _that,_ but I promised to tutor you on life, the universe, and well ... everything!" Sengoku hauled himself properly onto his chair, "And this is a good a place to start as any."  
  
"I've always found academics are strictly lacking in the life department." The consequences of Sengoku's promise started to bounce around his mind. "You're not trying to redeem me by showing me the 'right way' are you? Because you're wasting your time. I like being evil and inflicting pain and misery."  
  
Sengoku leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. "Where do you keep getting this idea that I'm going to show you the right way?"  
  
"Isn't that what you angels do?" Kirihara retorted. The table already had been vandalized by students of decades previous, and Kirihara pulled out a pen knife to add his own touch.  
  
"You have a point there ... I guess I should make a token effort."  
  
Kirihara's eyebrow twitched at the "token effort." He reveled in attention, and thwarting an angel's attempts to show him the light would have been a lot of fun. He considered stabbing Sengoku instead of the wood briefly, wondering if that would serve to finally bother the angel. "Whatever," he said. "Let's get this over with. I have a curse to perform at 8."  
  
Sengoku hauled his legs off the table so he can sit up straight and prim. He even summoned up a pair of spectacles that looked suspiciously like Tezuka's, "Kirihara. You're a shameless sinner. You should come to the light of the all-knowing, loving god."  
  
It was simply absurd. "Considered, rejected. That all?"  
  
Finally allowed to fall back into his comfortable former position, Sengoku plucked the spectacles off and twirled them around on a finger. "Well, there's also the part where no one suspects the angels."  
  
Kirihara couldn't resist asking. "Which side are you _working_ for?"  
  
"God's side!"  
  
"Then I'm not interested. God is... good. Good is so boring...:" He finally managed to finish the first word. "Do you know Kamio's phone number?"  
  
"God is the creator of the universe and everything in it ... as well as most of the stuff that entertains us." The glasses spun in the other direction, a glittering arc of light. "Me? How would _I_ know Kamio's number? That would imply that I actually talk to him in my off time."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"What will you give me if I tell?"  
  
"You promised to teach me. Teach me that."  
  
"Oh no, I promised to tutor you. That implies you know something to begin with. But I guess you're too young ... "  
  
"I'm not too young!" Kirihara replied, his temper forcing him to rise to the bait.  
  
"Sure you are!" Sengoku leaned over and pinched at Kirihara's cheeks. "You're a cute, baby devil!"  
  
Kirihara's knife was suddenly flying, and even Sengoku couldn't react fast enough. The knife was at the angel's throat, and the demon holding it was irritated enough to use it. "I may not be able to kill you, but I bet I can make you hurt an awful lot."  
  
Interest lit in green eyes and Sengoku smirked. "Then do it."  
  
The knife traced along Sengoku's Adam's apple. It pricked him at the base of the throat, and Kirihara licked his lips. He hadn't _hurt_ anyone in decades with his own hands, really. "I wonder how much you can take before you're forced to go back to heaven to recuperate."  
  
"More than you're capable of dishing out, little demon," Sengoku purred.  
  
Kirihara's eyes gleamed. It was a really stupid challenge, because he was _quite_ capable of using every torture mankind had ever invented and a few they hadn't. to inflict serious damage. The knife slipped to the place right above Sengoku's shirt, as gentle as the touch of a lover, before Kirihara pushed it in lightly. A small bead of blood joined the first. "That sounds like a challenge-"  
  
"Are you sure the book is on this floor, Kamio-kun?" a sweet, feminine voice asked as footsteps approached.  
  
A flash of a smile and Sengoku slipped from Kirihara's grip, leaning back again in his chair. The blood smoked from skin that sealed seamlessly, vanishing into nothingness. "It's not a challenge. It's a fact, sweet thing."  
  
"This is the history section, so I think it would be, An-chan." The sound of footsteps came closer.  
  
Kirihara looked at the blood on his knife, then at the smooth skin on Sengoku's throat. That took a _lot_ of power. He scowled before tossing the knife into one of those sub-space pockets that every demon utilized. "Later," he promised.  
  
An-chan appeared around the corner first, a slim, compact girl with short honey-colored hair in barrettes. "Well, I thought I saw a book on computers back there a minute ago ... "  
  
Sengoku waggled the glasses at him. "I look forward to it."  
  
Kirihara would have said something, but at that time, Kamio appeared, trailing An. His expression turned a bit sour as he saw who was already there. "An... maybe we should look somewhere else."  
  
Sengoku flashed them a smile, "Oh no, do keep looking! We could even help."  
  
An smiled back at Sengoku, opening her mouth to accept his offer of assistance.  
  
"Thanks, but I'm sure it's not here," Kamio said, before pulling An aside, and back down a different aisle. Their voices could be heard, slightly raised, as An protested Kamio's rudeness. "You don't know them! Trust me, if they 'help,' we'll never get out of here!" Kamio said.  
  
Kirihara felt a bit ill. Seeing Kamio and An made him sick - literally. The couple radiated love, which was not anything a demon liked being around. "There's no way I'm helping them... unless it's to split them up."  
  
"But that would make Shinji happy."  
  
"There's no saying he'll end up with Kamio. If I split them up, all of them can be miserable."  
  
"For a little while. Humans adapt so easily to their little miseries," Sengoku added, balancing the glasses on the tip of a finger. "Time heals all wounds and all."  
  
"The trick is to make sure they're bitter about it. Misery is self-perpetuating."  
  
"Provided someone doesn't come along and mitigate all your hard work ... "  
  
"So, who do you choose? Keeping them together and leaving Shinji miserable, or taking the chance Kamio might fall in love with him?" Kirihara asked.  
  
"Scilla and Caribdes," Sengoku grins, "Hmmm ... I choose that the Cowboys should win the Superbowl!"  
  
Kirihara wanted to run his head into the table. Instead, he merely grabbed the knife from subspace and went back to carving an ad for people to call Kamio for a good time. "Is that all for today, senpai? I have souls I should be torturing."  
  
"All? I've only just begun! But how can I start if you ask not the questions of the infinite?"  
  
"The answer is 42."  
  
"The smaller infinite."  
  
"Sengoku, the answer is _always_ ultimately 42. What do they teach you angels?"  
  
"Okay ... so what's the question, then?"

* * *

Oishi was reveling in the pleasant breather. It was still relatively early in the evening, meaning that most of the college crowd hadn't arrived yet. Kikumaru was of the firm belief that the party didn't start until after 10 p.m., and since the clock wasn't even at 9, the incubus hadn't yet made his appearance. Since Kikumaru hadn't shown, Tezuka was off doing his own thing (probably in a church somewhere, making up for his lost praying time - he spent a lot of time in prayer, more than any angel Oishi knew), which meant Oishi was blissfully alone.  
  
He knew he shouldn't feel so _relieved_ that no one was trying to demand his time, but his life had recently become way too complicated. He had thought this was just going to be a simple assignment - show Ibu Shinji that there was hope, and that God would always love him, even if Kamio Akira never would - and hopefully keep him from trying to commit homicide. A few future projections had shown various scenes of carnage if Shinji continued along his current path, like the one involving the prime minister, a window, and a parade, which was all linked to voices in Shinji's head, but...  
  
Oishi didn't want to think about it. Early intervention was the key, and he had been on the right track! Then Sengoku had led a demon right to him, and that had cued Kikumaru, which had led to Tezuka...  
  
Was it any wonder if Oishi was seriously considering a long stint under Yanagi in the Heavenly Records department? No matter how boring writing names by quill was, it'd be a lot quieter.  
  
It was a little too early for Shinji to be visiting the bar, but these minor details of when one was supposed to drink hadn't stopped him before. He also felt that he needed a good stiff one after the Dying Incident, which was never spoken of again.  
  
Okay, so it has to be spoken of if one wanted to know why Shinji's hair was now purple, his shirt was covered in red splotches, and there was red stains on his hands. He had kinda forgotten to read the instructions on the package of red hair dye. A mortal and often masculine error ending up in his hair _not_ being the red needed for proper Oishi seduction.  
  
Gloomy, Shinji sank into his usual place at the bar and muttered something about needing a beer.  
  
Oishi turned to look at his assignment, a friendly smile on his face, but then he caught sight of Shinji's appearance - and must it be pointed out that the red dye looked rather like blood? "Shinji!" He exclaimed, dropping his usual formality as his eyes grew to the size of saucers (well, not really that wide, but certainly beyond normal dimensions). Thoughts of failure and how Shinji had already killed someone, and the reports he was going to have to file started to make his headache worse. "What happened to you?!"  
  
Shinji shuffles around uncomfortably on his seat before aiming his unhappy glare at the bar top and mumbling, "I dyed my hair. Doyoulikeit?"  
  
Oishi blinked once, twice - then took a deep breath as he realized he was seeing the results of a very bad hair day. He wondered why someone with nice blue-black hair like Shinji's would choose to mess with what God had given them, but humans always seemed to be inclined that way.  
  
"It's very... purple."  
  
Shinji slouched lower, "It was supposed to be red ... can I have a beer?"  
  
"Red?" Oishi echoed. He supposed he'd never understand how human minds worked. "Um, coming right up."  
  
Obviously the Plan had been a complete and total failure. Shinji sighed, sucking on his beer morosely as soon as Oishi set it in front of him.  
  
Shinji seemed even more depressed than usual tonight. Oishi could feel the waves of despair radiating off the human like heat from a cheap space heater, and his compassionate heart swelled in response. "Ibu-san, is something the matter?"  
  
Shinji pulled his beer closer to him, nearly cuddling the glass as though it were his only friend, "No. Everything's just fine ... I went to class today ... the moron squad was acting up again ... then I dyed my hair ... should have read the directions, but it looked so straightforward ... where's the useless redhead? Did he leave? Gone for good? I hope so, I didn't like him much."  
  
"It's a little early for Eiji to be around," Oishi said. He wasn't about to start debating Eiji's merits, since most of them were the kind that he didn't think would be particularly... well, they weren't particularly things he wanted Shinji to discover. "I'm glad to hear you went to class. I bet you can make some friends there."  
  
"Not with the morons around, they disrupt everything."  
  
"Have some patience. Everyone had their good points." Oishi touched Shinji's wrist reassuringly. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a friend to do things with?"  
  
"I guess," Shinji sighed, fixating on the point of Oishi's touch, " ... are you my friend?"  
  
"Of course!" Oishi replied instantly. He was everyone's friend, really!  
  
This was a positive step! Perhaps the Dying Incident could be salvaged! Shinji glanced up through the curtain of purple hair. "Want to hang out sometime, then?"  
  
Oishi was cornered. "I guess it couldn't hurt..." He frowned a bit. "Ibu-san, I should warn you that the nature of my job might make me get transferred in a moment's notice."  
  
Shinji frowned in return, "What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm not sure how long I'll be around. Remember how angry Eiji was? It was because I got transferred and I had to leave him without warning." Okay, that was stretching the truth and he felt his tongue burning a bit, but...  
  
Shinji's face went through Shinji contortions, which was somewhere along the equivalent of Tezuka contortions and were only noticed by the trained eye. "We could be friends while you're here?"  
  
Oishi gave him a relieved smile. "That would be nice." Hopefully he could find someone else along the way for Shinji to latch onto. Shinji really needed a friend who could _stay_ with him.  
  
If Eiji kept to a schedule, he would be sorely neglecting his duties as a demon of outstanding sexual prowess. Oh no, occasionally he had to come in before the fun just to remind Oishi that he was The Demon and expectations were useless against him.  
  
Sidling up to the bar in hot pants and a t-shirt that was more string than shirt, Eiji posed himself on a seat with sprawling legs and ordered a gin and coke with a purr.  
  
Oishi wasn't precisely surprised by Eiji's early arrival, but the look that Shinji gave the demon did set off a few alarm bells. He decided to just ignore it, turning around (completely unaware how one redhead and one would-be red head used the opportunity to admire his ass) to fetch the drink. "Did you have a good day, Eiji?" he asked politely as he slid the drink into place in front of the redhead.  
  
"A delicious day now that I'm here with you, Oishi-kun," Eiji's purred, casting the mortal beside him a smirking glance. Shinji glared back, wondering what would happen if he knocked Eiji's chair over and then dumped beer over his head.  
  
"I'm glad to see you, too, Eiji," Oishi said with utter sincerity. A sweet smile lit his face, and there was no trace of the nerves which tended to overcome him around the catlike demon.  
  
Ever since his "talk" with Tezuka, he'd been thinking, and he'd realized that his tactics on dealing with Eiji were fundamentally flawed. He'd been so busy trying not to be damned that he hadn't thought on even attempting to redeem Eiji. From what he'd seen of the demon, Eiji wasn't the type who delighted in pain - merely the kind who delighted in chaos.  
  
Oishi could work with that.  
  
Eiji blinked, completely flummoxed. Oishi hadn't twitched or flinched or made that panting look that meant he was thinking about all the things Eiji could be doing with him. It was just .... wrong. Deeply, intrinsically wrong.  
  
Leaning forward, Eiji ran his tongue over his upper lip, "I missed you so, today"  
  
"It's nice to know someone cares about you."  
  
Eiji stared. What the ... ? "Oishi-kun? Are you in there, Oishi-kun?" He waved his hands in front of Oishi's face. Shinji snickered, pleased to see 'that damn hussy' having a moment of complete bewilderment.  
  
"I'm fine, Eiji," Oishi said. "Could you calm down a little? It's not good for you to be upset."  
  
"I'm not upset!!" Eiji grabbed Oishi's face and jerked it forward so he could stare into his eyes, "OISHI-KUN! ARE YOU IN THERE?! DID TEZUKA GET YOUR FIRST??"  
  
"Excuse me?" Oishi looked confused now.  
  
Eiji almost whined, "Oishi-kun You're not supposed to act that way."  
  
"What way?"  
  
The whine became a full fledged pout and Eiji milked it for all it was worth. "Like that way!"  
  
Oishi reached across the bar and picked up Eiji's drink, then forced it into his hands. "How about you take a drink? Maybe it will calm you down?"  
  
A drink sounded brilliant and Eiji gulped his quickly. He thumped it back down and _stared_ at the angel across from him. This was craziness. Something must be up! But not Oishi ... Oishi was never up to something ... right? Eiji narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "What are you up to?"  
  
"I merely thought on a couple of things, and decided to reevaluate the course of my existence," Oishi said. It was annoying that he couldn't lie. He wished he knew how Sengoku got away with it.  
  
Eiji became even more suspicious. "What sorts of things?"  
  
"If you wait for me after I shut down, we can discuss it." Oishi blushed a bit, having a hard time believing he was actually propositioning Eiji.  
The shock of before had nothing on this one. Eiji's mouth dropped open and he stared and sputtered and finally managed to gasp out a "Okay, Oishi," before stealing Shinji's beer to pour some much need alcohol down his throat.  
  
Shinji had been having a glorious time watching Oishi trounce Eiji. He had even been entertaining notions that maybe it was him that had cooled Oishi to the redhead ... which were all blown away by Oishi's final sentence. He glared hatred Eiji as he stole his beer and nearly writhed with jealousy at Oishi's benign expression over the whole thing. He was going to _get_ that obnoxious redhead.

* * *

It was closing time at the Lounge. Students were slowly trickling out the doors, only coaxed away from their drinks by the suggestion of more drinks and more full-frontal nudity brought on by drinks if they happened to head home and drink there instead. It took a while, a full thirty minutes after official closing time, in fact, for the last customer to clear the building and wobble out into the street for the walk back to their dorm.  
  
Kikumaru Eiji was in a state of sheer nervous tension and complete impatience for the whole of it, restlessly tapping his foot and shifting around in his chair (much to the appreciation of those formerly seated in the tables behind him). The minute the last customer was gone, he thumped his jack and coke down with a thump, and demanded, "Tell me what's going on, Oishi-kun!"  
  
Oishi was cleaning glasses, something which wasn't his responsibility but that he liked to do because he was a neat and orderly kind of soul. He gave the demon a smile, before looking over at a waitress who was stacking chairs on the tables. "I need to finish this up, but then how about we go and take a walk to talk about it?" he suggested.  
  
Eiji's eye twitched. "But I wanna hear it now, Oishi-kun! Now, now, now!!"  
  
"Eiji, how about helping Yuriko so we can get out of here faster?" Oishi suggested calmly.  
  
"But that's work!" Despite his protests, though, Eiji got up and helped Yuriko, even though it went against his demonic nature to help anything at all ... but as long as it got Oishi out of here _faster_ so he could stop dying of curiosity ... "You're so mean, nyah"  
  
"It benefits you in the long run, doesn't it?" Oishi reasoned. He knew very well how the demonic mind worked, but by starting with this simple wedge, he might be able to start a redemption without Eiji even being aware of it. Eiji wasn't the brightest light in the attic, after all. And the smile that Yuriko gave the both of them was blinding as they finished in half the time it normally took to finished closing.  
  
Eiji practically writhed, dancing on his toes as they _finally_ finished the dishes and the cleaning of the bar. "Can we go _now?!?!"_  
  
Oishi undid the apron from his waist and hung it up. "Just let me wash my hands."  
  
"Arghhhhh!!!!!" Eiji flailed.  
  
Oishi wasn't a sadist, but he went slowly as he took time to gather his thoughts. He was playing right into Eiji's hands if he left his safe ground, but desperate times called for drastic measures. The lemon-scented soap lingered in the air as he finally pronounced himself finished.  
  
"Are we leaving? Please say we're leaving, Oishi-kun!" Eiji attached himself to Oishi's arm and tugged, trying to get him to make him way to the door, "I can't take it anymore!"  
  
The waitress giggled about how cute Oishi-san's boyfriend was, wishing him a good night, and "good luck!"  
  
Oishi turned scarlet for the first time. "I don't need luck if I have Eiji," he said gallantly - though maybe the compliment was a bit backhanded.  
  
Eiji laughed at the waitress, which came off more as him laughing at her 'good luck' rather than what he was really laughing at, and bounded outside. "Finally!" He turned and pointed a finger at Oishi. "Now tell me!"  
  
It was past 2 a.m., but the crowd was still stifling to Oishi, who had a pretty good idea that modesty wouldn't be a concern to the horny demon... if such a word even existed in Eiji's vernacular. "Let's go somewhere a bit more private so we can talk without being interrupted." Flashes of Tezuka at his apartment persuaded him that his place was out of the question. "There's a lovely bench that overlooks the sea in Chiba... up for a little magical jaunt?"  
  
That so cinched it. Eiji was going to lay Oishi tonight and his 500 year long seduction would be at a glorious, triumphant end ... and not even Tezuka had been able to stop it. Eiji tossed his head in triumph and grinned. "I'll go anywhere you want to go, Oishi-kun"  
  
Oishi led the overly familiar demon - whose hands freely wandered over Oishi's angelic physique - into an ally so he could discreetly teleport the two of them to the place he'd been thinking of.  
  
Eiji blinked as they popped in and out of real space and looked around. He had kinda been hoping to take the oh-so-perfect angel up against an alley wall.  
  
It would have been nice to have been able to describe it as a perfectly romantic setting, but a bit of air pollution only let the brightest of stars (and planets) poke through the gloom. A few years ago, it would have been a wonderful place for lovers, but now most people would have worried about the air from the nearby paper factory. The sea had a few rather interesting colors in it signifying a few clear violations of environmental law.  
  
Oishi frowned at it. It hadn't been like this in the 50's. "Oh, my..."  
  
Least the bench was still there.  
  
Eiji gave the scene a long look. "This is supposed to be romantic?"  
  
"Haven't been here in a while..." Oishi said, and felt himself begin to flounder. "I forget how fast things are changing."  
  
Eiji grinned. "Well, it's not our problem. Now tell me, Oishi-kun!"  
  
Oishi was tempted to suggest going somewhere where he would be able to breathe, but decided that his supernatural healing would take care of any damage he incurred. He sat down heavily on the bench, took a deep breath (which made him gag just a little) and tried to figure out where to start. "Eiji, I think we need to discuss where our relationship is heading."  
  
Eiji stared at Oishi like he had grown a third eye, "It's heading to fucking."  
  
Oishi decided they needed to start at the beginning. "Eiji, what am I?" he asked patiently.  
  
Oishi's got to have lost his marbles somewhere. Eiji spoke slowly and carefully, to make sure Oishi understood, "An angel."  
  
"Right. Angels do not casually... engage in intimate relationships." His wording was much more delicate.  
  
"Well, duh! That's why seduction works so well to make you fall!" Eiji exclaimed, thumping down into a sprawl beside Oishi on the bench.  
  
Oishi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why would I want to Fall? I love helping people."  
  
"It's doesn't matter if you _want_ to Fall, Oishi-kun. It's my job to make you fall or destroy you."  
Oishi gave him sincere eyes. "Eiji, by all rights, I shouldn't have anything to do with you." A slight smile pulled on his lips, and he pet Eiji's hair gently, with a care that Eiji had probably never been subjected to before. "But I do _like_ you. I'm not just attracted to you - I like you as a creature."  
  
Eiji had been lulled by being stroked, craving his kitty ears so Oishi could pay attention to them too, but this, this was too much, "Whaaaaaaaaaat?!"  
  
"You're cute," Oishi said. He pulled Eiji a bit closer, reveling in his body warmth. "I miss you when you're not around."  
  
This was not going the way it should go! Oishi wasn't supposed to think of him as cute, he was supposed to think 'sex on legs'! Argh! "I'm not cute!" Eiji huffed.  
  
"Yes, you are," Oishi said, smiling a bit at the adorable expression on the demon's face. His hand ran through Eiji's hair, amazed at how fine the strands were. "I don't want to have just sex with you. I want to be the one you can rely on."  
  
Eiji leaned automatically into the touch, more than just a little confused by the way events were playing themselves out. When confused, though, he fell back of standard demonic performance and ran a hand up Oishi's thigh, purring, "Then why don't you Fall and become the demon I can rely on forever, Oishi-kun?"  
  
"Because if I'm a demon, I won't be able to love you," Oishi said. "Only angels love."  
  
Eiji gave Oishi a suspicious look, pulling away a little. "Love?"  
  
Oishi's smile was gentle as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Eiji's brow. "If you let me."  
  
Eiji looked up at Oishi cross-eyed, as if trying to take a look at the place kissed without letting his eyes pop out and take a stroll up there themselves, "Nyah, you're strange."  
  
"Are you scared?"  
  
Scared?! Eiji was a demon! Mortals trembled in fear of him! "I'm not scared! Who's afraid of _love?!"_ Eiji sniffed disdainfully, back straightening.  
  
Oishi's lips found Eiji's in a surprisingly gentle kiss. He licked the outside of Eiji's mouth, asking for entrance, and the demon groaned, shifting a bit closer to increase their body contact. Hands began to wander, and they forgot about how ugly it was around them and the air that smelled like industrial chemicals, and concentrated on how wet and warm -  
"Not exactly my choice for a romantic rendez-vous, but I suppose you take what you can get."  
  
Eiji jerked away with a startled pop at the voice that all demons knew and sorta feared (if they knew what was good for them), "FUJI!"  
  
Fuji Syuusuke, the Master of Evil Himself stood in front of them, his hands buried in oversized jeans and looking very much like a college student. The large beer-bottle glasses he wore had very dark frames, though they looked a bit off with the "I only LOOK sweet and innocent" hooded sweatshirt he had on. He smiled cheerfully at Oishi, who he had never formally met. "I assume you are Oishi-kun?"  
  
"Y-yes?" Oishi stuttered. He wasn't sure what the proper reaction on being caught making out with a demon was, especially when the person catching you was the Devil himself. He tried to think of something to say, but his mind was amazingly blank.  
  
"I've heard a lot about you," Fuji said, and he shifted his footing a bit.  
  
"R-really?" Oishi wondered why Fuji would be interested in _him._ He was pretty low-ranking, when all was said and done.  
  
"Tezuka's very fond of you." Fuji gave Oishi a brilliant smile, the kind that doctors used when saying "this won't hurt a bit!"  
  
Oishi had known that Fuji had always been a bit interested in Tezuka, but hadn't realized that it would extend to himself. "He's a good angel," Oishi replied, wondering if there was any way he could protect Tezuka. Obviously Fuji wanted something. He saw Eiji squirming out of the corner of his eye, and wondered why the incubus was so nervous.  
  
Eiji squirmed around the seat, glowering at Fuji from under carefully lowered lashes. Of course His Most Evilness would have to _ruin_ things right when Eiji could have been getting Oishi laid. Not to mention that The Evilest was probably up to getting _his_ target and scarring Eiji's perfect record. It's something he would do. Eiji scowled, "Don't you have more important things to do, Fuji-san?"  
  
Fuji smiled at him. "Everything I do is important." The subtle _don't tell me what to do, you mere minion_ went unspoken, but the last time he'd used Smile #157 in Eiji's presence had been right before demoting a Demon Lord who'd dared to annoy him over his color scheme choice in Purgatory.  
  
Eiji scowled at the ground and muttered something that might have been an apology, but probably wasn't.  
Oishi looked at the two of them, wondering what he was missing.  
  
Fuji gave Oishi an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Oishi-kun, but I need to borrow Eiji. You do understand, don't you?"  
  
Oishi nodded, and rose to his feet. "It's not a problem."  
  
Damn. He was in hot water. Eiji cast his most pathetic look in Oishi's direction as the angel started to walk away.  
  
"Would you be so kind as to deliver a message to Tezuka for me?" Fuji asked sweetly.  
  
Oishi hesitated a moment, before turning around. He couldn't see how that could hurt. "Sure. I can't promise you he will reply, though."  
  
"That's okay. Just promise to give him it exactly the way I give it to you."  
  
"I promise." Oishi began to get a foreboding feeling - and for very good reason.  
  
One second Fuji was nearly ten feet away, and the next he was right in front of Oishi, who only had a second to blink before Fuji reached out and jerked Oishi's head down. Fuji's tongue shoved itself into a startled Oishi's mouth, and he kissed him for a few long moments before letting him go, but not before stealing a good grope.  
  
Oishi stared in horror as Fuji removed his glasses to polish them on his shirt. "Give it to him just like that, okay?"  
  
Oishi, who was now bound by his word, could only teleport away, his dignity in shambles.  
  
Eiji was on his feet in a fuming moment, "HEY! What was that for?!?!"  
  
"I had to test him for you, didn't I?" Fuji twirled the glasses around his fingers. "I approve."  
  
"He didn't need testing! He's just fine!" Eiji snapped, stamping his foot.  
  
"I know that now." Fuji walked back over to put a hand on Eiji's shoulder consolingly. "He needs a little bit of work, but I think he'll work out well."  
  
The incubus huffed and folded his arms over his chest, muttering, "He better."  
  
"Have I ever been wrong before?"  
  
"'This Christianity thing will never catch on.'"  
  
"It's a fad. I'm telling you, give it another couple millennia..." 


	6. Touched by an Angel

_**Paved with Good Intentions  
**_by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.  
Part 6 Summary: In Which a family reunion (of sorts) takes place and a message is delivered.

* * *

****  
  
The woman who walked down the street elicited stares from men. It might have been something about the slight sway in her step, which drew attention to her lovely hips. Or the fact that her chest was stacked better than a plate at IHOP. Or maybe her beautiful face, which was breathtaking and made many a man have to dash for the restrooms to take care of problems.  
  
It wasn't that she was immodestly dressed. Her light button-up summer sweater and matching peach skirt were perfectly acceptable. The problem for any man who looked on her - and a few of the more bisexual and lesbian women - was that Fuji Yumiko was the definition of "sex on two legs."  
  
Saeki Koujirou, being admittedly a member of the male species and being ruled by the fifth member, was indeed problematized by the sudden appearance of sex on leg -- errr, that hot chic -- errr, Yumiko.  
  
It being a summer day, he was equipped with the latest in eye-screen equipment, and as she approached, Saeki was _compelled_ to lift them and wolf-whistle.  
  
Yukimo paused as she noticed the hot guy with white hair making a blatant appraisal of her assets from a table at a cafe about ten feet away. Having no particular plans, she gave him a slight smile in return as she approached his table, the click of the heels of her sandals a heady rhythm. "Is anyone sitting here?"  
  
Was anyone sitting here? The goddess was speaking! Was anyone -- hot, damn, no one was sitting there! Saeki felt the need to leap to his feet and pull out a chair, except that would reveal a condition better left casually unnoticed. Instead, he lounged down a little farther, flashed his most brilliant 'give me sex, you know you want to' smile, and said, "Not at all. Please join me. Would you care for a drink?"  
  
Glancing up at the sky, she noticed with disappointment that it was still too early to get away with ordering a beer. She'd have to order something cutesy - and with a lot less alcohol... unless.... "Feel like margaritas?" she asked.  
  
"If you're buying and carding."  
  
She laughed in surprise at his gall. "Usually men want to by _me_ drinks," she said even as she signaled for a waiter. The waiter, who spent a very long time staring at her chest, forgot to ask for ID as she sent away for the margaritas. Resting her elbows on the table, she studied Saeki carefully. "Want to tell me why that was worth it?"  
  
Saeki's first response was not suitable for public consumption, his second was a little better, "You tell me. What would the lady like?"  
  
There were many things she would _like_ but she decided to play it simply. "Well, let's start with a name? I'm Fuji Yumiko."  
  
"I'm Saeki Koujirou. Pleased to meet you, fair damsel," Saeki half-bowed over the table. He paused as her name connected to his brain. "Fuji? Any relation to Fuji Yuuta?"  
  
Her breath caught momentarily. "Fuji... Yuuta?" she whispered, and all the playfulness drained out of her.  
  
That was quite the change in mood. Saeki forced his eyes up from her chest, "You know him, then?  
  
"You... could say that." She forced a smile onto her lips. "I just haven't heard about him in a long, long time. He had an accident, and I haven't heard from him since." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Is he doing well?"  
  
Saeki was most pleased to offer the goddess assurances, condolences, and any comfort (hopefully personal) that she might require, "Oh, he's doing fine. Good grades in his classes, boyfriend who gets him laid, everything a man can ask for."  
  
She laughed at that. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you're a very good... friend... to him." Her foot slid out of her shoe and began to trail up Saeki's leg suggestively. "It'd be nice if we could be... friends... too."  
  
"Oh, the best friend ... " Saeki hummed. Today was his lucky day, no question!

* * *

Fuji Yuuta was used to Saeki bringing home pretty girls. Occasionally they'd even stop making out long enough to be introduced - but the one currently sitting with her sweater undone and Saeki's hand on her breasts immediately broke off her attempts to see how far her tongue could go down Saeki's mouth to blink at him in surprise when he opened the door.  
  
"Yuuta!" she exclaimed, and the smile of happiness was genuine. "It's so nice to see you looking so well!"  
  
He hesitated, the door handle still in his hand as he desperately tried to remember where he'd seen the pretty woman before. She was a few years older than they were, and not the type who usually wound up in a boy's college dorm for a one-nighter. "Um, I'm sorry, miss... do I know you?"  
  
Her smile became a bit gentle, and had a touch of sadness to it. "You should, but it's not your fault you don't remember me. I'm Fuji Yumiko, your older sister."  
  
Saeki, who had been desperately signaling Yuuta to get the heck out of the room so he could get off in peace, froze. "Sister?" he croaked.  
  
Her smile was brilliant. "Did I forget to mention that?"  
  
Blue eyes narrowed. "You did."  
  
"Sorry about that!" She ran a hand over Saeki's bare chest in apology.  
  
Yuuta wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. As far as he'd known, he'd always been an only child, raised by a disturbingly normal middle class family who had been surprisingly supportive when he'd announced that he was gay - or maybe bi. His mother liked to make him cookies and his father was a salaryman. Never before had they made any mention of another child.  
  
"I'm an only child," he stated a bit belatedly. Of course he'd dreamed once or twice about having a sibling - he particularly wanted an older brother - but finally meeting one, who happened to be sitting half naked with his _roommate_ of all people, was enough to make him feel... disturbed. He found his eyes lingering on her form, particularly her full breasts which were almost entirely naked. If he hadn't seen it, he would have sworn they were fake. They were just too... large... to be real.  
  
"I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that, Yuuta," Yumiko said. She bit the bottom of her lip, trying to decide. "We kind of... lost you."  
  
"Lost... me?"  
  
"It was an accident!" she incident, and her eyes filled with tears. "Not only were you lost, but I think you managed to forget all about us in the process." She sniffed once, and Saeki, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which she snuggled into.  
  
Seaki reached up to stroke her hair while asking curiously, "But how did he get lost?"  
  
"Our family made a bad deal. We thought there was something we really wanted, and we didn't know enough to be happy with what we had."  
  
The genuine pain in Yumiko's voice drew Yuuta to her. His instincts - which were never, _ever_ wrong, told him that she was telling the truth. "Why didn't you look for me, then?"  
  
"You think we haven't been? Yuuta, there's been people searching for you for longer than you can imagine." There was a bit of amusement in her voice. "The Fuji family is very, very powerful. I suppose it's fate that you were given to a family with the same name."  
  
Saeki sighed, rather in complete disbelief, "Yare, yare ... sounds like a plot."  
  
"Of the most devilish kind," Yumiko agreed. "I'm just so happy you're looking well!" She clapped her hands in front of her. "How about we all go out to dinner, my treat? It would be lovely to catch up and see how you're doing."  
  
"But ... " Sex and food wage a minor war for dominance of Saeki's body. His hand slid up Yumiko's thigh, "weren't we doing something?"  
  
"Oh, we can do that later," she promised as she began to button her shirt. "I haven't seen my brother in eons!"  
  
Yuuta felt confused as Yumiko grabbed both his and Saeki's arms, and dragged them out the door. She chattered merrily about the weather and asked them about classes on the walk, before finally leading them to a nice little Mexican restaurant. Even though the place required reservations, the trio sailed in, claiming the best table in the house.  
  
Yuuta found Yumiko engaging and charming, and felt her happiness at the company. Friendliness radiated off of her, and he was suddenly glad to have met her... which made him wonder...  
  
"Do I have any other family?"  
  
"Well... maybe you should wait and see. It's complicated," Yumiko said, patting Yuuta on the head as she groped Saeki somewhere lower in a remarkable display of dexterity.

* * *

Tezuka had teleported straight to Oishi's apartment with barely a thought, ignoring the filtered sounds of the neighbors as he compulsively straightened his already made bed and then went to prepare an equally compulsive tea.  
  
He had been talking with the Divine Father. Or rather, talking to rather than with. Prayer was an act that only went one way and really, Tezuka hadn't wanted to be answered, just to spill his guts. If God didn't want him to do something ... He'd say something, right?  
  
Oishi was already in the kitchen, and from the scent coming from the oven, he was baking cookies. Even if the smell hadn't been a dead-give away, the mess of unwashed bowls, mixing equipment and half-used ingredients was a dead give away. It was a bad sign - Oishi only baked when he was upset about something. It was just too bad that he never learned how to do it very well. No matter how many batches of cookies, cakes and other confections he tried to make, he'd yet to produce anything that approached "edible."  
  
Tezuka regarded the implements of cooking with something approaching dread, warily stepping into the cramped corner that might possibly hide the cups. Perhaps he could grab his tea and make a tactical retreat.  
  
Oishi's reaction on seeing Tezuka was interesting, to say the least. He eeped! a bit, and the bowl with which he was mixing frosting slipped out of his fingers and onto the floor. "Darn it!"  
  
Tezuka blinked and watched the bowl splatter icing across the floor, "I apologize for startling you?"  
  
"Oh, no! It's my fault, I mean, I felt you come in, and I know you like a cup of tea, would you like me to make you one?" Oishi did a remarkable impression of one Ibu Shinji when flustered.  
  
"I can make my own tea," Tezuka took hold of a cup and held it very firmly, as though it might be an effective weapon. Or maybe a shield. "Are you ... okay?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?" Oishi asked, shifting a bit nervously. The cow-pattern apron he wore bore was already quite stained from his baking expedition. "Tezuka, how about you sit down and I do that for you? I'm sure you've had a very long day." Never mind the fact that it was only 1 p.m. "It's not a problem!" Oishi reached out to relieve Tezuka of the cup.  
  
Tezuka took a step back, still holding the cup. He was getting rather determined about keeping it in his possession ... Oishi might ... do things to it while he wasn't looking. Like attempt to bake with it. Or put something baked in it. "Oishi ... "  
  
"Ijustwantwhatsbestforyou!" Oishi said, and then made a lunge for the cup... forgetting about the mess on the floor.  
  
Luckily he'd been using a metal mixing bowl, so there were no pieces of glass, but the icing proved to be quite slick, and Oishi's slipper-shod feet sent him spinning forward. He landed with an "ommph!" on Tezuka, and such was his momentum (and the lovely laws of physics which Renji was particularly fond of) that he ended up bring Tezuka down to the ground. The larger angel really made for a more comfortable landing for Oishi, but being on top of Tezuka was the last place he wanted to be at the moment with his promise to Fuji hanging over his head.  
  
He looked at Tezuka in shame, noting absentminded that the archangel had managed to maintain his hold on the cup despite the fall.  
  
The cup emerged completely unscathed from the attack, though Tezuka could not say the same. He made an "oof" sound as he hit the ground and opened an eye (not realizing he had closed them) to peer warily at Oishi. There was the imminent feeling that he was about to get groped again and he wondered if he should cut it off at the pass ... or if he _wanted_ to cut it off at the pass.  
  
Oishi knew a chance when he saw it. "Tezukaimsosorrybutihaveto!" he said, and leaned down and kissed him.  
  
"Mmmmppphhhhhh!!!!" was the reply. Tezuka stared at Oishi's red face, mouth too shocked to move.  
  
The kiss was awkward, and Oishi knew as soon as he started that it wasn't going to satisfy the requirements of his promise. His tongue, for example, bumped against Tezuka's teeth, and he totally had the wrong angle for "giving it to him just like that." His face burned as he broke away. "Sorrysorrysorrysorry!" He scittered backwards, ending up in a corner, wrapping his arms around his legs as he buried his face against his knees.  
  
As soon as Tezuka recovered, Oishi knew he'd be toast.  
  
Tezuka stared at Oishi as if he had grown a third head, a fifth leg, a tentacle maybe, and possibly even a pair of conquering green eyes and a pair of antennae. Surely, Oishi was not of this universe created by God. His mouth moved, open and shut, up and down, before sound came out ... and a high-pitched sound it was, "What was that?!"  
  
Oishi started to mutter a bit, but he ended up making no sense and just rocking back and forth a bit, resembling a patient from an asylum.  
  
Tezuka sat up, compulsively straightening his clothes with his free hand (he was still determinedly clutching the cup with the other). His voice, having resettled into the audio range that he happened to like frequenting, grew a bit more firm, "Oishi. What was that?"  
  
Oishi was too lost in his own misery to even notice. Tezuka stood up, walked the few feet to Oishi, and dropped the cup on his head.  
  
The sound of the cup hitting the floor was ignored as Oishi finally jerked out of his trance to see one of the most powerful creatures in existence looming over him with a neutral expression - the one Tezuka wore when he was suppressing anything that might have shown on his face. OIshi swallowed, waiting to be damned to fire and brimstone for laying a finger on the archangel.  
  
Now that he finally managed to get Oishi's attention, Tezuka repeated his query, "What was that?"  
  
"Iranintofujiandhewantedtosendyouamessag ebutigaveitwrongandimsososorry!" Oishi said, his words running together still.  
  
Tezuka blinked, face falling into it's more standard expressionlessness as he takes a moment to figure out what Oishi just said. Oh. Oh! He shifted his focus to the kitchen wall for a moment, considering Fuji and the usual nature of his messages.  
  
He crouched down to ask, "Was it something like this?" before leaning forward to seal his mouth over Oishi's and nimbly stick his tongue down the other angel's throat.  
  
Oishi felt his eyes flutter in shock. Tezuka... actually was pretty good at kissing! He was much better than Oishi, who'd been practicing on and off for five centuries with Kikumaru.  
  
Between Fuji's centuries long seduction attempts and the random traveling accident that was Sengoku, Tezuka felt that he had a pretty good handle on the concept of lip-to-lip contact. In fact, he felt downright proud of the little tricks he had managed to pick up.  
  
Breaking the kiss with a final lick to Oishi's lips, Tezuka rocked back onto his heels, watching Oishi expectantly for his answer.  
  
Oishi felt his lips move once, twice - and then he started to completely meltdown. "T-Tezuka!" he stammered as his brain ceased all functioning. His other brain, though, was starting to stir, and he wanted to find some way out of this, but... he could still feel that stupid promise binding him.  
  
Tezuka's head tipped exactly one degree to the side. This was his version of cocking his head. "Well?"  
  
Oishi's first brain kicked in as he realized that Tezuka had asked a question. He stared at the face like a deer caught in the headlights, a bit breathless and wondering if Tezuka had always been so handsome. "Not quite." To his relief, he managed not to stammer.  
  
That was unfortunate. It might require more kissing to discover the exact combination that Fuji had used in his message. There was also a reasonable chance that there was groping involved. Tezuka's head tipped another degree. Not that kissing Oishi was an unpleasant notion ...  
  
Oishi saw a considering look in Tezuka's eyes, and decided to make another go. "It was more like this," he said, and then he leaned forward for a third kiss, which lasted quite a while. As he broke away, he groped Tezuka, trying not to notice how well-shaped Tezuka's ass was.  
  
Tezuka decided that he _liked_ the way Oishi tasted, though he twitched at the grope. "I see."  
  
Oishi tried to see if he'd been unbound from the threats of the promise. He shifted his sight, but there was still a blue thread wrapped around his left hand, trailing off to wherever Fuji likely was. "I still didn't do it right."Tezuka adjusts his head to the three degree marker, "Then what exactly are you missing?"  
  
Oishi tried to recall the scene, and realized what was different. "We were standing," he said. He wasn't sure if his legs were going to hold him, though.  
  
Tezuka stood and offered Oishi a hand up.  
  
Oishi couldn't help but notice how warm Tezuka's smooth skin was. He was amazed he was still alive - and even more amazed that Tezuka was being cooperative. Then again, Tezuka understood the grave nature of giving someone your word, and the consequences if it was unfulfilled.That Tezuka did, though sometimes one's word was like a noose around one's neck, always and ever demanding satisfaction. It had only taken once to teach him never to give one's word lightly. He released Oishi's hand as soon as the other angel was standing and waited, nerves twitching with something akin to anticipation.  
  
This time Oishi remembered the way Fuji had been - confident and self-satisfied, sure that he knew what he was doing. Oishi smiled at Tezuka, and before the other could relax, leaned up and caught Tezuka's mouth with his own.  
  
A second later, he forgot what he was doing, and just concentrated on trying to get the stunned Tezuka to respond. His tongue toyed with Tezuka's, brushing against it playfully before running against Tezuka's lower lip. His hands rose from his side to wrap around the older angel's body, and then he found himself grabbing Tezuka in a very inappropriate place - and felt the binding of the promise lift.  
  
Oishi knew he should stop.  
  
Knowing and doing are two different things. Not to mention the fact that it was quite nice to play tonsil hockey with Oishi ... someone he could actually _trust_ versus some _others_ he could name. Tezuka's hand rose to trail along the column of Oishi's throat to cup the other angel's face, shifting to close the distance between them.  
  
Sweet, warm, the taste of -- the binding of Tezuka's promise pulled tight, jerking him back into familiar focus. He broke the kiss, giving Oishi's lips a reluctant parting lick. "Better now?"  
  
Oishi came back to himself, blinking just a bit. "Um, yes..." he said, becoming aware that his body now had other demands. "I think."  
  
If it was in Tezuka's nature to snarl with annoyance, he would. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The noose tightened again, reminding him he was promised elsewhere in these matters and woe be it if he faltered. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh yes, and cursing happens to be a sin, came the little reminder via the voice that sounded disturbingly like Sengoku. Fu -- ark. Mind you, none of this internal storming actually showed on Tezuka's face, "Good."  
  
Oishi decided there was only one thing he could do in this situation. "I'm going to go take a shower." A very, very cold one.

* * *

Sunlight was something that Kirihara absolutely hated. It was bright, it was cheerful, and he could feel his epidermis being damaged from fifteen minutes exposure. He wasn't in danger of skin cancer or anything, but the feel of the warmth on his skin made him long for the sunset, when the sky would be properly dark and people would start lurking about and getting in trouble. Crime rates were higher at night, a lovely thing.  
  
Even though he'd voiced his complaints about the weather conditions numerous times, and had his eyes safely shielded by the best pair of sunglasses money could buy (not that he bought them - who would buy them when a five-fingered discount could be applied?), he was sitting in the corner of the school courtyard. It was a lovely grassy area with a few old-growth trees that were worn smooth at the base from having students lean against it as Kirihara was at the moment, thankfully finding a bit of shade.  
  
If Kirihara was hiding in the shade, Sengoku was shamelessly on display in the grass, practically writhing on it as he stretched and squirmed in the sun. Beautiful earth and far too brilliant sun. Sengoku grinned widely as he stared directly at the fiery orb before flopping over, letting it pleasantly bake his back as he moved his grin to Kirihara. "Is there a reason you're hiding over there?"  
  
"Let's think about this. I'm a creature of darkness. I would be cavorting around in the sun... why?" Kirihara asked.  
  
"Sun is fire, fire is burning, burning is hell, hell is the home of demons. Perfectly logical to suck some of it in."  
  
"You make my head hurt," Kirihara whined. "Mind telling me what you wanted to lecture me about today? Or can I just go back to bed and be a normal slacking college student?"  
  
Sengoku grinned. "Focuses. Unless that's too complicated for you today, oh slacking student."  
  
"I have plenty of focus. I know exactly what I want." Kirihara allowed himself a brief moment to imagine the whole world roasting in hell.  
  
"Not focus, _focus_. You know, individuals around whom great things happen?" Sengoku raised an eyebrow of superficial inquiry as he ran his fingers through the grass, as if to comfort it against Kirihara's wishes.  
  
"You mean people of great power and influence?" Kirihara returned. "Corrupt them, corrupt everyone they know?" He smiled a bit. "I seem to recall a serial killer in the United States..."  
  
"Were you born dense or did you get that way through hard work?"  
  
The glare Kirihara gave would have dropped Sengoku dead if he was a mere mortal. The evil eye was a specialty, after all.  
  
Sengoku beamed at him. Immunity to the evil eye happened to be one of his specialties. Wonderful how the dice fall out just so ... "Focus as in more than power and influence, mine own. Focus as in around them the _world_ could shift."  
  
Kirihara wasn't following. He knew he didn't look terribly brilliant as he reached up to inch his sunglasses down his nose so he could get an unshaded view of the raving lunatic in front of him. "What in hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Shinji, Moses, Noah, Adam ... " Sengoku's head tipped to the side as he added in a musing voice, "I guess you're really too young to know about any of that. It's once in an angelic lifetime sort of stuff."  
  
Kirihara's jaw dropped. "You're saying Shinji is capable of saving humanity?" He tried to think of the drunkard he had seen as a savior, and came up short, unsurprisingly.  
  
Pure amusement appeared in Sengoku's face, "I'm saying that he's a focus."  
  
Kirihara was too wound up to notice Sengoku's usual word games. "Damn it. Why am I wasting time when I could be assuring the destruction of the world?" He jumped to his feet, prepared to show one Ibu Shinji how hopeless and ugly the world was.  
  
"Because one demon means nothing to the destruction of the world. Not even one such as you," Sengoku drawled, as if bored, but beneath it was a sharpness.  
Kirihara's enthusiasm dimmed as he caught the warning. "One demon can have a lot of impact."  
  
"True, true," Sengoku plucked a stem of grass and twirled it idly between his fingers, "But it's all about _timing_. Sure, he's a focus ... but the _when_ might not be right yet."  
  
"You're just trying to protect him," Kirihara replied, turning as he settled his sunglasses back on his nose.  
  
"Moses was unbreachable until he was told to speak to the rock, Noah was immune until he drank some wine, and Adam couldn't be touched until God told him not to eat of the fruit."  
  
Sengoku did have a point. "They were free of sin, though. From what I see, Shinji wallows in it..."  
  
"See? Already damned. Even the efforts of the beloved Oishi and the balmy Sengoku haven't been enough to rescue him from his wretched state. So why are you running away from my lesson? You've got plenty of time to worry about Shinji later."  
  
Kirihara knew there was a flaw in Sengoku's logic - there always was - but he couldn't find it. "Fine then," he said, turning back to reclaim his position against the tree. "So Shinji's a focus. Apparently there's nothing I can do about it, so why should I care?"  
  
"Because usually a lot of bad things happen when it's time? The lord of hell falls, archangels die, bunch of minions bite the dust ... " Sengoku stuck the blade of grass between his teeth and chewed on it. "Most people like to know about that kind of stuff in advance?"  
  
"Lord of hell... falls?" Kirihara blinked. "Fuji's not going to be replaced anytime soon."  
  
"You never know about those kind of things. Satan got axed during the flood, after all."  
  
"Oh, him," Kirihara said dismissively. "I forgot about that."  
  
"How could you _for_ -- oh, that's right. You're too young."  
  
"Duh. It was a couple thousand years - hey wait. How old are you?" Kirihara had been getting suspicions that Sengoku had been around a while, but the way he talked about Satan made him wonder.  
  
"Older than you?"  
  
"Do you remember Lucifer?" Kirihara asked, a true gauge of age. If Sengoku could recall the first of the devils, then he was positively ancient.  
  
Sengoku smiled that slow smile of his, "I remember his end."  
  
It was like Sengoku had put a sign over his head saying "old bastard! old bastard!" Kirihara was starting to wonder if he'd bit off more than he could chew - but "caution" was a word not in his vocabulary. "Tell me, did Tezuka really stick it to him? Or was it Yukimura? There's a rumor that said Yukimura did it, but didn't want Satan to know since the guy was kinda nuts."  
  
"I dunno, I was kind of fond of him, nuts and all"  
  
"He was a loser," Kirihara proclaimed.  
"Okay, so he was kinda dumb letting Yukimura get the jump on him ... "  
  
Kirihara sighed. "Anyone who gets taken out by that limp-wristed do-gooder doesn't deserve anything close to respect."  
  
Sengoku looks amused, "Even if he's an archangel?"  
  
"What's so special about them, anyway..."  
  
"They talk directly with God," Sengoku paused, "Oh. And they're stronger than you," he stuck his tongue out at Kirihara in what could only be called childish nyah nyah.  
  
"_Some_ of us talk directly with God," came the smooth and altogether too bland interjection from Tezuka, who had snapped into existence behind the both of them with not even a drop of 'by your leave'.  
  
Sengoku was on his feet in a split second with an overly cheerful cry of, "Tezuka!!" as he pounced on the archangel with a mighty leap. Well, he would have pounced if Tezuka hadn't stepped to the side at the very last moment, letting Sengoku crash face first into the grass, shoving up vegetation with his nose. This was, naturally, not to be bourn, and Sengoku snapped his arm out to crack into the back of Tezuka's legs.  
  
This too might have been effective if while in falling, Tezuka _hadn't_ adjusted the position of his elbow so that it slammed into the small of Sengoku's back.  
  
"Ahhhh Tezuka-sama doesn't love me anymore!!"  
  
Tezuka was ever so happy to grind his elbow in a little bit more, completely droll, "Yes, you keep those amicable delusions of yours that I loved you in the first place," before calmly getting up and brushing his clothes off with anal precision, as if he did this kind of thing every day.  
  
"So cruel!!!"  
  
Kirihara blinked once as he stared at the archangel voted by denizens of hell as "most likely to have a pole up his ass." Seeing a familiar look of irritation on Tezuka's face made him inch up his respect for Sengoku's prowess - he'd actually managed to coerce some kind of expression onto the granite visage.  
  
It'd been a couple of centuries since he'd seen Tezuka, and the last time they'd met, things hadn't gone well - for Kirihara. There had been a lovely rebellion that Kirihara had fully planned to end with a crushing defeat, but Tezuka had deftly spun it to create a working democracy. Kirihara was still stinging from that one.  
  
"Tezuka-san, how nice to see you here," Kirihara drawled, not even bothering to rise to his feet. "Dare I hope you're here to drag a truant angel back to heaven?" The sight of Sengoku being ground into the ground was already becoming one of his favorite memories.  
  
Tezuka merely glanced down at Sengoku, who was apparently playing dead, and nudged the other angel with the tip of his foot, "I do not think you will be that lucky."  
  
Nudging provoked the immediate reaction of clinging burr and Sengoku coiled himself around Tezuka's leg with all the speed and dexterity of a snake. Almost, almost, Tezuka's eye twitched as he shook it in hopes of getting the angel to _let go_.  
Kirihara watched in fascination, amazed at Sengoku's apparent desire to be erased from existence. You just did not do that Tezuka if you wanted to keep your life.  
  
Sengoku _smiled_ and Tezuka actually snapped at him, "Do not even _think_ it."Sengoku pouted instead, "You take away all my fun."  
  
"Let go of my leg."  
  
"I like it here."  
  
"You bring _shame_ upon the name of archangel. LET GO."  
  
"But my love for this leg is true!"  
  
"OFF." The air snapped with a crack of power and Sengoku made the most woeful face any creature could possibly own before detaching and plopping back to earth with a thump. He made a test sniffle and Tezuka just _glared_ at him.  
  
Kirihara stared at Sengoku, too, before turning and speaking to Tezuka in his calmest, most rational voice. "Please tell me you were joking."  
  
"I never joke," was the calm, if somewhat aggravated reply. Sengoku grinned, since that was somewhat of a joke in and of itself.  
  
Kirihara took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. His smile was amazingly pleasant as he faced Sengoku. "I thought there were four archangels?"  
  
Sengoku beamed at Kirihara as if he were a prize student, "There are!"  
  
"Tezuka, Yukimura, Sanada and Atobe," Kirihara recited faithfully.  
  
"Sanada's not an archangel," Sengoku hummed with near glee.  
  
Kirihara took another breath, and the hiss as it escaped through his teeth was notable. "I have a fucking headache," he said. "If I didn't know you couldn't lie, I'd be laughing my ass off right now." Kirihara's language started to grow more and more foul, making Tezuka flinch a bit on the inside. "You... are one of the holiest of holies..." He stared at Sengoku like he'd grown a fourth head.  
  
"Actually, no one has been able to figure out why God keeps him around," Tezuka stated calmly. Mind you, he had his suspicions, but it wasn't fit to mention them before demons.  
  
Sengoku flashed a smile at them both and then bounced to his feet so he could make a dramatic pose, hand pointed to the heavens, "I keep telling you, Tezuka honey, it's for comedy relief."  
  
"You are a disgrace."  
  
"I like to call it a special kind of genius." 


	7. Places of Higher Learning

_**Paved with Good Intentions  
**_by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.  
Part 7 Summary: In Which overdue books are discussed.****  
  
There is one place in Heaven that is open to all comers, be they angels or devils. In that place, the metaphysical equivalent of sunlight shines through tall windows, velvet muffles the floors, books fill shelves that run from floor to high ceilings and stretch in every direction into the nearly infinite distance. It also happens to be pretty empty. It would seem, that despite the Hall of Records and History being _The Library, _the laws of libraries apply. Workers in the back, bookworms between the shelves, and everybody else avoids it like humans avoid the plague. Knowledge? Learning? Who needs that?!  
  
Few people realized its true power. _Scientia est potentia._ For those few, they had to deal with the keeper of the keys, one Yanagi Renji, the one angel whom had been personally appointed to keep a watch over exactly what was going on. It was how he and Inui had become... well, not friends, but colleagues.  
  
It was a given that if someone was seeking Yanagi, he would be in The Library. Rumor had it he didn't sleep, but that wouldn't be true. The truth was no one noticed him sleeping since he'd perfected the fine art of sleeping upright, and if his eyes were closed as he snoozed, it made no difference since no one ever saw him with his eyelids open anyway.  
  
The purpose of Inui's visit to The Library did not actually have anything to do with Yanagi per se. Today, it was all about the research. Considering the events that his spy eyes informed him were beginning to unfold, it was high time he consulted The Library's history to gain an accurate portrait of all the beings involved. And if he happened to run across Yanagi ... well ... all the better.  
  
The moment Inui set foot in the library, Yanagi looked up. The alarms he triggered to go off at a frequency only he could hear (since he'd been fitted with a special device because of said alarms) shrilled their warning that Inui was on the premises. Even though he usually let Inui go about his own business, Yanagi made it _his_ business to keep track of what the data demon was up to. By tracking what Inui was researching, he'd found it made it easier to gain a drop on him - though often times Inui would plant misleading trails, and... well, it was a huge headgame. Yanagi rather enjoyed it. Inui was one of the few creatures as smart as he was.  
  
Inui slipped between the shelves, admiring the comfortable plush beneath his feet and subdued lighting in spite of himself. The house of knowledge, no matter its holy attachments, was still a thing of admiration. He hadn't caught sight of Yanagi yet when he turned to the shelves and snapped his fingers.  
  
The shelves ground into motion with a rattle and a hiss, sliding along metaphysical grooves to whip past him, stirring the lazy air with the smell of books and speed. As they slowed to a stop, Inui peered into the segment and nodded amicably to himself, reaching out to pluck volume 25,456,342 out of its place so he could flip through it. This one should be close to Tezuka versus Fuji round one. He would need something earlier than that, but this would give him a good place marker.  
  
The whistles Yanagi heard, a faint ringing rather like tinnitus, turned into a shriek that made his brain threaten to pop out of his skull like a piece of bubble gum treated to a sudden influx of air. It was all he could do not to slam his hands to the side of his head and cover his ears for some futile relief. Instead, he forced himself to his feet, deciding that he'd have to try to distract Inui. There was a confidentiality policy in place when the events of the past could influence the events of the future. He didn't know what Inui was looking for exactly, but whatever it was, it boded no good.  
  
Of course it didn't. Inui was demon, he wouldn't be up to anything good. Opening the book, he skimmed down the first couple lines, "Year 1105 -- " Too late. He would have to go farther back. Inui replaced the book and snapped his fingers again, setting the shelves to running on their braces once more.  
  
Yanagi deftly grabbed the brace for the shelf which contained volume 23,367,898 and hopped on top of it, hitching a ride. The eight-foot vantage point was blessedly out of Inui's line of sight, but as the shelf slid to a stop in front of his nemesis, Yanagi couldn't resist tweaking his rival. "Can I help you find something?" he asked in the most polite of tones.  
  
Inui glanced up only briefly in acknowledgement before returning his attention to the shelf, running his fingers along the spines in search of a likely starting point. His fingers skipped a space and he paused, "Actually, yes, you can. Where's volume 22,400,765?"  
  
"Missing."  
  
"How can there be a volume missing in History?"  
  
"It's before I took over as librarian. There's no records missing since my tenure started," Yanagi said defensively.  
  
Inui adjusted his glasses in a manner that managed to imply that it was all Yanagi's fault, "I am sure ... but how did they go missing in the first place?"  
  
"It's Hell's fault," Yanagi said, looking disgruntled. The bookworm in him was seriously annoyed at the incomplete collection. "It goes back to the last heavenly wars - demons invaded The Library, and a bunch of volumes went missing - usually the pivotal ones."  
  
"Now why would Hell steal mostly pivotal volumes of History?" Inui frowned. It wasn't that demons were all thieves that was getting his brain jumping, he _expected_ that, "That implies an intent."  
  
"It could have been your usual jealousy. Back then, Hell wasn't allowed access to The Library." Yanagi lifted an eyebrow. "What would you have done?"  
  
"Led a raid to take as many volumes as we could get our hands on."  
  
"The problem lies in the fact that since you do have access now, it's a moot point. It would be appreciated if they were returned. I won't even charge you overdue fees." Yanagi gave a faint smile.  
  
"I would be most happy to do the Librarian a favor of that magnitude ... but we do not have the missing volumes."  
  
Yanagi sighed and looked disgusted. "You probably do, buried somewhere in some minor demon's attic, but no one's alive who remembers where they hid them. Everyone pretty much got wiped out due to that mess."  
  
"It was ... unfortunate." It was a disaster. Everything had been going so well before that, too. God was pissed of at the Earth, the Earth was ignoring God, rain was coming down from Heaven, the Apocalypse was so _close_ ... and then they _lost_.  
  
"Indeed. But there's always a rainbow. Fuji managed to negotiate you access, after all," Yanagi said sweetly.  
  
Damn rainbows. "This is true, though I would have assumed he would have returned all the missing volumes to you. Unless of course, he forgot."  
  
"He did return the volumes which ended up in his possession - he was bound by a blood promise to," Yanagi said. "Even Fuji's not going to cheat on a blood promise to God over a few books."  
  
Then it was time to search a few forgotten attics in search of the missing volumes. No one said he couldn't read them before returning them, after all. Inui nodded shortly, "This is so. I will make a search for your missing volumes, Renji. We can call it a favor."  
  
"Only if you return them," Yanagi replied. "What are you after specifically, anyway? I might know something about it." Quite true. People tended to tell him things which his eidetic memory never forgot. All told, he was probably the largest font of gossip in the universe.  
  
"In what way Sengoku and Kirihara relate to the current situation. Everyone else makes sense as far as I can determine."  
  
"From what I can tell, there's nothing particularly special about this situation. We're cyclical. Demons rise and fall, but the angels falling out of grace and being redeemed match it. It's really very balanced," Yanagi said. "Sengoku has always been a periphereal player - he likes to be on the edge of the action, but never really involved. Kirihara is merely his newest amusement."  
  
"This confrontation may end up tipping that balance."  
  
"It'll get tipped back," Yanagi said fatalistically. "I don't think we're at Doomsday yet - it hasn't appeared on my calendar, at least." He pulled his planner out of nowhere, and flipped through. "I am concerned about Fuji managing to tempt Tezuka, but with Echizen Nanjirou gone, there's room for a new lord in Hell. Sanada would be named the fourth archangel, and the system would continue."  
  
Inui's notebook snapped open in an instant. Common demonic thought (Hell, common demonic _teaching_!) held that the four were Tezuka, Atobe, Yukimura, and Sanada. If Sanada was _not_ the fourth archangel then that meant that someone _else_ was. "Sanada's the angel of justice ... not the archangel. How did we miss that?" he murmured, more to himself, plugging in serial numbers left and right in search of the fourth. Someone old ...  
  
Yanagi could not believe he'd made that slip. The slight ringing he was still hearing (which wouldn't go away to Inui was safely out of the library and away from the prevcous books) must have been too distracting. "Don't you ever talk to Fuji?" he asked superiorly. "He knows who the archangels are."  
  
"You know as well as I that Fuji does not reveal information of that magnitude and has in fact, been perpetuating the general knowledge that Sanada is an archangel." Running out of likely candidates, Inui set the rest of the angelic registry into automatic plug-in and waited patiently for it to complete.  
  
Yanagi shrugged. It'd been something heaven hadn't discouraged - considering who the fourth was. It was... downright embarrassing.  
  
The notebook pinged and Inui checked the equation. Then double-checked. Then stared. "You have got to be kidding me."  
  
Yanagi knew that only one result had popped, and decided to concede the inevitable. "I wish."  
  
"How did _Sengoku _become an archangel?!" Inui demanded, waving the notebook in disbelief.  
  
"I think you can thank it to seniority. He's _old_, and if you hang around long enough, you just keep getting promoted. Eventually there was no one older than he was and he got the slot." Yanagi looked down at his feet, which hung around Inui's head.  
  
Inui sighed, "I thought Yukimura was eldest in heaven."  
  
"We _think_ Yukimura is the oldest. We're not quite sure. They're pretty quiet about it - all we know is Tezuka is the youngest of them, and Atobe's not much older than he is."  
  
"This adds a completely different angle to our current situation," Inui mused, reaching up to yank on Yanagi's leg in an attempt to dislodge him.  
  
Yanagi deftly avoided it, managing to kick Inui in the shoulder as he swung his legs to safety on top of the shelf. "Not really. Sengoku hasn't changed - it's merely your perception of him that has."  
  
"Merely in the fact that we have been underestimating an angelic representative," Inui winced at the kick and stepped back, "Not to mention the fact that if Heaven managed to keep _this_ a secret ... how many other things are you keeping quietly in the dark?"  
  
"Inui, my esteemed colleague, weren't you ever told that Heaven is the light?"  
  
"Hidden then, in plain sight."  
  
"It's only because people don't choose to see. You can be blinded by the light."  
  
"It's rather lucky that I'm not surrounded by its blinding presence."

* * *

Being around a stressed-out Yagyuu was fascinating and at the same time repulsive. For the past week or so, Yagyuu had been helplessly watching expenses skyrocket, and Niou had been stuck with him, unable to go Up There, since their Lord and Master already had dibs on the surface world.  
  
Yagyuu was not stressed out (something he told Niou repeatedly), he was simply irritated by the fact that Fuji had decided to spend _that much money_ on an _expensive_ love hotel, all of which Fuji had _neglected_ to tell him about _before_ he left so he could work it into the budget in a proper and useful fashion by cutting Hellish Gardening by fifty percent for the next fiscal quarter.  
  
Okay, so he was stressed out. Where were they going to get the money for this?! Projects would have the be hacked! Funds would have to be cut! Oh, wait, he could suck some money from Ryoma. Not like _that one _ would need it since he was staying at the temple for free.  
  
Niou was the one bearing the brunt of Yagyuu's ire. Yagyuu, who admittedly was something of a sex addict (something which Niou repeatedly thanked his lucky horns for), had actually turned him down twice. The pacing thing he could deal with, but Yagyuu was starting to mutter figures in his sleep, never a good sign.  
  
It probably wouldn't have been so bad if Niou wasn't so wound up himself, but the restructuring which had seemed like such a fun idea... wasn't. Inui seemed to be preoccupied with something, and Dan was next to useless, which left the weight of the workload on his own sexy shoulders. While Niou was never against work - most of his plans were elaborate contraptions - he _was_ against drudgery. Well, when he was the drudge.  
  
Yagyuu tallied up the account books again (which happened to be scattered across Niou's office by this point, getting intertangled with the paperwork that restructuring always managed to acquire), this time skimming money off of Kirihara's account as well, and still came up with far less than he would need to cover the year's expenses. He slammed the book shut with a glare, _almost_ scowling at Niou, "I would be better off in Heaven."  
  
Niou felt the part of him which would have been his heart faltered. He could not believe things were _that_ bad. "Hiroshi, maybe you should take a vacation."  
  
"Where the fucking clouds are lined with fucking gold," Yagyuu muttered in the general direction of the latest accounting book. He paused, engaging in a oh so pleasant daydream of sending a task force to go and rip some of that gold out to boost Hell's finances.  
  
Niou sighed, feeling his own tension headache threaten to get away from him. "You do realize that nothing horrible will happen if the books aren't balanced. Remember deficit spending?" He grinned. "I seem to recall you subtly influencing a few countries...."  
  
"Which would work fine, Masaharu, if we didn't happen to be living with the demons who we'll be owing. Not to mention _angels_."  
  
"Borrow it from Fuji's account. He's richer than sin, and he's the one spending it in the first place." Niou shrugged. "He'll only torture you for a couple of years for it, worst case scenario. Most likely he'd find it funny."  
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses. The idea was frightfully appealing ... if if weren't for the part were he dreaded what Fuji might come up with in terms of punishment, "Some of us aren't that bold."  
  
"There is one other solution," Niou said.  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"Remember that spam scan I had Touji set up?"  
  
"Yes ... "  
  
"Check his bank account."  
  
Yagyuu summoned the necessary book to his hand and flipped to the appropriate page, "You have got to be shitting me." He didn't knock on a good thing though, he just calmly tapped into it and sucked out the cash he needed.  
  
Niou grinned wickedly. "It's just too bad he did that under direct order on office hours, isn't it?"  
  
"Oh yes" Now that Hell's little financial difficulty has been cleared up, Yagyuu was in a very _good_ mood. He closed the book up after making a few minor adjustments to the relevant accounting columns after redistributing the cash and stood, walking over to sit on the arm of Niou's chair. "Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?" Oh yeah, no question that Niou would be getting a blowjob in about 3.5 seconds.  
  
And since it was such a sure thing, the moment Yagyuu was in midmotion to his knees, the door slammed open and Gakuto stormed inside. Yagyuu straightened and adjusted his glasses in annoyance as the demon of pride snapped out with, "Why are you cutting _me_ from Devilish Resources!?"  
  
"It's corporate restructuring," Niou said smoothly. "We've decided that your workload could easily be handled by Jirou, which frees you up for some more challenging tasks."  
  
Manicured hands went to narrow hips as Gakuto Mukahi stared at Niou, "Oh? And what might those be?"  
  
"We need someone to lead orientation." This time the points of Niou's teeth were definately showing. "You have such a gift with people, I thought you'd be ideal to handle the new arrivals."  
  
If Gakuto could have dropped Niou with a glare, Niou would be dead and twitching like a cockroach on the floor. "You had better be joking."  
  
"Would I joke about such a serious career decision?" Niou gave a smile that resembled a cat who had just stolen three bowls of cream.  
  
"In a hot hellish minute," Gakuto scowled, but realized that there wasn't much he could do about it even if was true. Didn't mean he couldn't complain, though!  
  
Niou laughed, opening his mouth to poke at the redhead again, when the door to his office slammed open again (well, the metaphysical door, but since the concept of hell has already been mentioned, it isn't worth discussing).  
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses. "Aren't you supposed to be on Earth, Kirihara?" he asked blandly, idly wondering if the younger demon had realized his account had been cut and rather hoping he _had_.  
  
Kirihara was in horrible shape. His eyes were slightly dilated, and he was breathing like he'd run the entire way down the infamous hellish stairs, instead of doing the sensible thing and teleporting.  
  
Niou recognized, being the perceptive demon that he was, that something had gone wrong. "Hiroshi," he hissed, warning his lover off. "Kirihara, what happened? Are you considering defecting?"  
  
Niou couldn't be blamed for thinking that, really. Kirihara did look like his entire world had been turned upside down, like he'd just had a revelation. Niou's question, though, snapped him out of it, though. "Of course not!" he growled. "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"  
  
Gakuto tossed his hair, absurdly pleased that someone else was having a hellish day. "Because you're a pansy?"  
  
"I'm not the one who dyes my hair!" Kirihara snapped back.  
  
"I do _not_ dye me hair!!"  
  
"There's no way that's natural. I've seen you in the shower."  
  
"All that does is make you a voyeur," Gakuto turned and posed, "But who can blame you?"  
  
"Blackmail, Gakuto. I told Kikumaru I'd send your picture to Oishi if he didn't... well, it's not any of your business." Kirihara smirked, relaxing.  
  
Sparring with Gakuto seemed to be calming down their little prodigy, even as it riled Gakuto up even more. The merest _mention_ of Kikumaru was enough to send Gakuto through the roof, and Kirihara's hinting that he'd actually done _something which Gakuto didn't know_ made it 100 times worse.  
  
It was simply not to be bourne, not on top of the joke Niou had made out of his job. Gakuto made a flying leap for Kirihara, hands extended to claw, "Why you little brat!"  
  
Gakuto was quick, but Kirihara was meaner. Niou watched with vague amusement as a smile of sheer delight grew on Kirihara's face. It took about ten minutes, and a lot of blood was spilt - most of it Gakuto's - but eventually Kirihara ended up sitting on top of Gakuto's back, a hand in the red hair as he contently rammed Gakuto's head against the floor in 2.7 second intervals.  
  
"Niou-senpai, there was-" BAM! "-something I needed to-" BAM! "-talk to you-" BAM! "-about." Kirihara paused only slightly as he kept acquainting Gakuto's head with the carpet with amazing force.  
  
"What? Oh, you're going to have to clean that... it's so hard to get up."  
  
"I've found bleach effective in removing blood," Kirihara said, the pause less noticible this time.  
  
The only thing Yagyuu did was make his accounting books lift and float out of the way of the splatter. Gakuto, meanwhile, had had enough, teleporting out of Kirihara's grip with an audible crack -- which might have been his power, or might have been his head. One of the two.  
  
Kirihara hit the floor with a "bump!" and gave a pout which rivaled anything Kikumaru could have produced.  
  
"You were saying, Kirihara?" Yagyuu asked, settling himself on the arm of Niou's chair again. He idly noted that Gakuto hadn't bothered to reappear and decided that the demon had probably thought it wisest to retreat ... or was off gathering ammunition.  
  
Kirihara's attention suddenly focused in on Yagyuu, and that made Niou's alerts fire up. Kirihara, when he was paying attention, was a deadly thing. "Yagyuu-senpai.... as a former denizen of Heaven, you know who the archangels are, don't you?"  
  
"Of course." A fine eyebrow raised above impenetrable glasses.  
  
"Is there some reason you never saw fit to inform anyone that idiot Sengoku was graced with such a prestigious position?" Kirihara was still perfectly pleasant, but the way his eyebrow was twitching, Niou knew that Yagyuu was two seconds from getting _his_ head pounded into the floor.  
  
Then what Kirihara said processed in Niou's mind, and Niou took a deep breath and counted back from ten (okay, maybe he skipped three numbers, but it was the idea that was important). Turning to Yagyuu, he smiled. "It's a good question, Yagyuu." He sounded pretty calm himself... but his mind was screaming. Hell. Fuck. Shit.  
  
Yagyuu adjusted his glasses again, a gesture of habit and nervousness more than anything else. It was not a pleasant thing to have two powerful demons eyeing one as though one was a platter about to be torn into. Time to play it off as 'no big deal'. "It never occurred to me to inform you. Sengoku Kiyosumi is one of the angels Heaven likes to forget it has."  
  
The problem with dealing with demons was that they had perfect memories - when they chose to. "I seem to recall if there was anything "wrong" with Sengoku," Kirihara said. "You had a perfect chance then."  
  
"You didn't _listen_ to me when I told you not to pay anything of his. Why should I bother filling you in on details like what rank he has?"  
  
"Indeed, Yagyuu, but in the five centuries we've been together, it might have helped _me_," Niou said, looking seriously put out.  
  
"If he wasn't as old as he is, he'd be a joke. He _is_ a joke," Yagyuu sighed. Things had been looking up before the interruptions and now _this_.  
  
Niou sighed. "But he's got to be powerful, and power corrupts." His eyes lit up as he thought of corrupting an archangel.  
  
Yagyuu almost clenched his teeth, before relaxing. He didn't want Sengoku anywhere _near_ Niou. He didn't want Niou _seeking_ Sengoku out. "That's just it. By heavenly standards, he _is_ corrupt. He should already be fallen. But he's _not_. God, it seems, really likes having a court jester around."  
  
"We don't want him down here, anyway. He's like mildew - you can't get rid of him," Kirihara complained. After finding out _exactly_ how badly Sengoku had played him, all thoughts of damning him has vanished.  
  
No... what Kirihara wanted to do was erase him from existence. He had a feeling some of the angels might even thank him.  
  
"Indeed. He's more trouble to heaven exactly where he is."  
  
"I don't care about that! I want him _obliterated!_" Kirihara shrieked.  
  
"Someone's bitter," Gakuto hummed, snapping back into existence with a nail file, which he industriously put to work on his fingernails, happily sharpening them into points. "Did Tezuka get the drop on you again?"  
  
Yagyuu's reply was calm, "I doubt attempting to eliminate him would be wise."  
  
Kirihara looked thoughtful at Tezuka's name. "Maybe I should talk to him... thanks, Gakuto!" he said, teleporting out with renewed determination.  
  
"Argh!! He wasn't supposed to like it!" Gakuto wailed, throwing his hands up.  
  
"Now tell me why Tezuka is involved in this?" Niou blinked as he realized that for Sengoku to be an archangel, someone whom he'd thought was one really wasn't. "Is he the one who isn't really an archangel?"  
  
"No, that would be Sanada." Since the cat was already out of the bag, Yagyuu didn't see any point in withholding the minor details of the situation.   
  
Gakuto frowned, "Archangel? Tezuka? Sanada? What'd I miss? What's going on!?"  
  
"Oh, nothing you need to concern yourself about." Niou smiled and glanced at the clock on his desk. "Shouldn't you be going? Our next shipment of damned souls is due in about thirty seconds."  
  
The frivolous tossing about of his existence really pissed the demon of pride off. He snarled briefly at Niou, showing his teeth, "I'll get you for this, Niou," before smiling ever so pleasantly at Yagyuu, tossing his hair back. With that, Gakuto slid out the door in a suave glide, being sure to shake his hips on the way.  
  
Yagyuu glanced at Niou out of the corner of an eye as soon as the door banged shut. "Where were we ... ?"  
  
"I think you were about to give me a blowjob..."  
  
"Ah, yes," Yagyuu smirked and walked over to do just that.

* * *

Shinji's life had begun to revolve around the bar. The drink was there, Oishi was there, and his nemesis was there. His nemesis. He liked the sound of that. Despite the appearance of bouncing, glittering, barely attired Eiji ... Shinji was sure he was pure unadulterated evil in tight pants. Too bad he wasn't here tonight, Shinji had really been hoping to dump his drink down those tight pants.  
  
But no, all he got was the guy with the stick up his ass who liked to sit next to him and nurse _one_ drink all evening. Not to mention that that particular shade of blue in the guy's shirt was beginning to give him a serious case of the twitches. A man shouldn't look that good in blue. It was a heinous attack on his ability to focus on Oishi.  
  
Oishi hadn't been able to look Tezuka in the eye all evening, and he knew exactly why the other angel was there. He'd screwed up very, very badly by catching Fuji's attention, and he knew that it was his own stupid fault that he had embarrassed them both like that. The long, cold shower he'd taken as penance had taken two hours, and he still was feeling hyper-alert to Tezuka's presence.  
  
Tezuka swirled his drink and ignored Shinji's covert hair glances with the ease of long practice. It was true that he was here because of Oishi (or at least, here to keep Oishi mostly on the path of righteousness, though how it was righteous when he was feeling maybe the tiniest little desire to _kiss_ the other angel again ... ), but half of his mind was most definitely occupied with thoughts of Kirihara. That one was going to be trouble. If not now then at some point and Sengoku was only exasperating the situation.  
  
It was a strange atmosphere between the three. Shinji wasn't talking at the moment, his quiet murmurs lost into the foam of his beer, Tezuka never talked anyway, and Oishi just wanted some time alone to remind himself what good angels were supposed to be like.  
  
All that was needed was one spark, and the powder keg would blow up. Does it really need to be said that the next person who walked in was said spark?  
  
Tezuka knew that power signature anywhere. He took a deliberate and fortifying swallow of his drink before saying in his most calm and even voice, "Good evening, Fuji."  
  
It'd been nearly a century since the two had met face to face, and the slow, lazy way Fuji let his eyes scan Tezuka was overly familiar. Oishi stiffened a bit, but was grateful for the shelter of the bar. He wasn't sure how to react, really.  
  
Apparently "metrosexual" was what the Devil had been thinking when he got dressed. His shoes were shining, and so were his fingernails (probably the result of a manicure), and the semi-casual clothes he wore looked like they'd been run over with an iron. He wore a brown khakis and a button-down shirt, but the stylish vest he had thrown over it was open in a slightly relaxed style. There were no glasses, but shades had been pushed into his hair, which was tied into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.  
  
Tezuka ignored him through the ease of long practice. Shinji, however, reminded himself not to do something exceptionally stupid, like drool. That would be an unfortunate additive to his beer and might possibly give Oishi the wrong idea. How was it that Oishi had all these exceptionally attractive men flocking to him suddenly? Had he changed his cologne? Shinji gave the air a careful and subtle sniff ... huh, he didn't notice anything different ...  
  
Fuji didn't bother taking a seat, but somehow there was nothing awkward about that. "Did you get my message?" he asked sweetly.  
  
"Yes." It paid to be brief and to the point with the lord of hell.  
  
Oishi wondered if anyone would notice if he teleported away.  
  
Fuji glanced over at Oishi, the smile that never left his lips coming into play. "He's a very good messenger, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes." Tezuka swirled his drink in a vaguely contemplative manner, looking up at Oishi over the tops of his glasses, making the other angel nothing more than a strangely appealing blur.  
  
Oishi tried not to squeak. "Tezuka... I'm about to go on break...." Okay, maybe it wasn't supposed to be for another hour, but he supposed no one would begrudge him. It wasn't every day you got hassled by the Devil Himself.   
  
"You don't go on a break for an hour, Oishi-san ... " Shinji observed. No, he was not a stalker. He was just curious, that's all. Just curious!  
  
Oishi stared at Shinji in horror. "I was going to take it a bit early," he said. Why couldn't angels _lie?_ he wondered in despair.  
  
Shinji frowned, "Are they bothering you?" he asked, glancing at the two icons of se -- hateful attackers of Oishi.  
  
"Tezuka is Oishi's best friend, and I know Tezuka very well," Fuji said. "Right, Tezuka?"  
  
"No." Ah, the joys of horrifying and exacting truthfulness. He smirked, just a tiny, tiny bit.  
  
Shinji eyed that smirk with something approaching respect. It took a master to smirk when barely moving your lips. One day he hoped to attain such perfection of subtlety. "Do you know Kikumaru too?" That would be the acid test.  
  
"I know Kikumaru _very_ well," Fuji said. "But I think a lot of people know Eiji...." Fuji sighed and looked nostalgic. "Ah, those were the days..."  
  
"I don't like you. Maybe you should go away," Shinji informed Fuji, calmly thumping his beer.  
  
That was so direct and painfully to the point that Tezuka almost, _almost_ smiled.  
  
Fuji blinked in surprise. It was rare someone took a dislike to him. Squinting a bit, he read Shinji's soul, trying to see if he was some kind of holy man. Nope. Just a schmuck who happened to have some weird sort of luck.  
  
Fuji was an ally of the enemy. He was automatically painted with the brush of EVIL through pure unadulterated association. And he confirmed that Eiji was a tart. Shinji sniffed primly at that. He had always known.  
  
Tezuka took another sip of his drink "You heard the man. He does not like you. Perhaps you should leave."  
  
Fuji sighed. "I guess you want to be alone with Oishi again," he said, a slightly defeated tone in his voice.  
  
Oishi tried his b.est not to swallow as he was suddenly dragged back into the conversation.  
  
Shinji eyeballed Fuji, under the impression he was talking to him. "Yes. Go away."  
  
"Would you like to get some coffee, then?" Fuji asked, holding a hand out to Shinji. "It would be rude of us to get in the way."  
  
Tezuka sighed quietly to himself, which managed not to even waver his breathing, and counted the seconds to immediate Shinji hatred of the proceedings.  
  
Shinji glowered at the outstretched hand, "I don't want to get coffee with you." Then the rest of the statement filters its way through his brain and he tilted his head to look at Oishi and Tezuka. He didn't _think_ they were a couple .... it was Eiji who was hitting on Oishi, after all. Shinji was pretty sure that Tezuka barely counted as an active lifeform, let alone an active threat to him.  
  
"Something else, then?" Fuji looked a bit longingly at Tezuka, making the slightest expression that could be interpreted as unrequitted desire. "I know that the two of them haven't had their hands on each other in a couple of hours, and they're-"  
  
_"Fuji!"_ Oishi exclaimed in horror.  
  
"-probably pretty horny. Tezuka's lips are pretty swollen, and so are Oishi's," Fuji said blithely, ignoring the interruption. "They couldn't keep their hands off of each other last night."  
  
Oishi swallowed, wanting to deny it, but unable to do that stupid thing against lying. Staring at Shinji, Oishi felt a lump of lead settle in his stomach, knowing that the mortal was going to be played quite badly by the Master of Hell.  
  
Tezuka wasn't quite sure what benefit Shinji has in Fuji's game, but anything Fuji wanted was usually bad. Ergo, he should start to intervene. He took another swallow of his drink and slid Fuji a bland glance, "I like how you manage to forget to mention your own involvement in last night's debacle, considering you were there." Where, when, and how need not be specified.  
  
Shinji had been staring at Tezuka and Oishi (specifically their lips, which he would have admired anyway because they were lovely lips in their own right) with suspicion, but Tezuka's sudden addition threw his brain for a loop. A very sordid loop into the nearest sexual gutter where it swam happily with the idea of Oishi and threesome's with sexy gay men. He took a sudden demanding swallow of his beer at the mental addition of himself.  
  
Fuji knew exactly how to corner Tezuka. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn't made it abundantly clear that you preferred Oishi's company to mine." All true. "I didn't even get to lay a _finger_ on you, while Oishi had his hands-"  
  
_"Fuji!"_ Oishi managed to choke out, for a second time.  
  
"All over your ass. You expect me not to be jealous? You expect Eiji not to react?"  
  
"Considering that you and Eiji are together, I fail to see your difficulty," was the ever so bland reply from Tezuka.  
  
Shinji made an effort to pull his thought facilities from his other head only to lose them again with the thought of Oishi and Oishi's hands on ass.  
  
"Eiji and I haven't slept together in centuries, as you well know." Fuji tried his best to sound like a jealous lover. "I just think that Oishi should have better taste than to sleep with the nearest available body."  
  
Shinji perked up. Really? Oishi slept with the nearest available body? He could be available! Anytime! Anywhere! Just say the word! "Do you really do that, Oishi-san?" There was an almost hopeful note in his voice.  
  
"No!" Oishi objected. "You shouldn't listen to Fuji!"  
  
"Why not? Have I told him anything that wasn't the strictest truth?" Fuji replied, knowing very well he hadn't, and Oishi was caught. "I may have exaggerated a bit about you being a _slut_, but the fact is, you made out with three people in the last two days."  
  
"All of which could be traced back to being your fault, Fuji," Tezuka commented, observing the last of his drink with apparent idleness.  
  
Shinji riveted onto the fact that Oishi was getting smooched by three people, while his mind happily supplied him with images of Tezuka/Oishi (which seemed to occur on desks with lots of paperwork), Eiji/Oishi (ew, just ew), and Fuji/Oishi (which happened in the back seats of cars) .... his carefully constructed image of Oishi the Blindingly Perfect and Pure Vessel of Adoration shattered like glass. "Can I have a kiss too, Oishi-san?"  
  
Rock, meet hard place. "Um, Ibu-san, I really don't think that's such a good idea. We're friends, and I'd hate for anything to interfere with our relationship." Oishi tried not to squirm, glancing desperately at the clock which said he had another half an hour before he could take his break.  
  
"So ... they _aren't_ your friends?"  
  
"It's a different kind of friend," Oishi hedged desperately.  
  
"What if I want to be that kind of friend?" Shinji pressed.  
  
"I think he's taken at the moment," Fuji said insidiously.  
  
"No, he's not," Tezuka added.  
  
Fuji played his ace. "Well, you're living with him!"  
  
"Of course," Tezuka remained cool as a cucumber, "Roommates should take care of each other. I would hardly call that taken, though."  
  
He wished _his_ roommate would take care of _him_.  
  
"Well, if you can get sex from your roomie, I guess it's a convenient thing." Fuji made a slight pout. "But you cut off other people who could... like... you," he announced in a voice which was barely above a whisper. "Shinji-kun, how about I treat you to dinner? I know a really good place, and since Tezuka and Oishi can't bear to be parted, maybe we can find some... comfort... in each other." The smile he offered would have turned an eighty-year-old monk on.  
  
Tezuka managed to sound like the master of reason. "You can hardly like me much if you insist of comforting everyone you come across."  
  
Shinji eyed Fuji with only slightly less distaste, though admittedly the idea of possible sex was a great improvement on his vision of Fuji the Most High Evil Associated with Eiji, which had now been upgraded to Fuji the Evil that Might Put Out.  
  
"I have to consol myself some way, don't I?" Fuji walked over to Shinji and draped his arms around the usually depressed mortal. "I have the nicest hotel suite..."  
  
Oishi saw the red lights blazing in front of him and knew he had to make a decision. If Shinji got lured into Fuji's clutches, it was Game Over for the angelic side. He opened his mouth to intervene, but was jerked upright by Angelic Law. It was up to Shinji to resist this temptation.  
  
Shinji shifted uncomfortably. He didn't get touched that often and Fuji's touch in particular was making him feel squirmy. In accordance with this feeling, he tried to edge to the side and almost overbalanced his stool, "Why are you living in a hotel?"  
  
"I'm on vacation and decided to look up a few old friends. I was _hoping_ to persuade Tezuka-san to consider a career change, but I think he's too obsessed with his current position." Fuji leaned over and licked Shinji's ear. "We don't need Tezuka and Oishi to have a good time."  
  
"My current position offers a better benefits package than the one you are offering me, Fuji," Tezuka replied.  
  
Shinji shivered. It was enticing, "Okay."  
  
The delighted smile on Fuji's face made Oishi want to cry. He tried to think of some way - any way - to prevent the imminent disaster, but Fuji hustled Shinji out of the bar within thirty seconds of the acceptance, leaving Tezuka and Oishi alone.  
  
"We have a bit of a problem here," Oishi said.  
  
"Yes," Tezuka was agreeable to this assessment.  
  
Oishi stared at Tezuka's decidedly neutral face, wondering if anything else could go wrong. Murphy's law being what it is, the door swung open ten seconds later, and a red-head wearing pleather bounced through the door to deposit himself on the stool Shinji had just vacated.  
  
Oishi grabbed a bottle of tequilla from behind the bar and chugged it down to brace himself for a long night. 


	8. Everytime You Hear a Bell Ring, An Angel

Paved with Good Intentions  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.  
Part 8 Summary: In Which strange alliances are proposed and the Bat Phone is a very important piece of equipment.

* * *

Despite what most people believed, there was nothing preventing a devil from entering a church. In fact, there were many angels who actively encouraged Fallen Ones into entering the most sacred of buildings. As Sengoku would have explained if asked (but most people weren't crazy enough to ask him), the evil were the ones who most needed to hear the Word, so what would the point be in trying to keep them from it?

It didn't mean it was _comfortable_ for the truly sinful to be around. It was rather like standing on overly hot sand in bare feet - bearable, but not anything people enjoyed. It was only through his stubbornness that Kirihara sought Tezuka out on that fine Thursday afternoon.

It was kind of hard to miss the blazing point of demonic power inside a church. Not that it was hard to miss Kirihara on principle, but Tezuka liked to imagine it was more so on what the human's believed was pure, holy, untouchable ground. He glanced to the side as Kirihara slid into the row he was kneeling at and let the glance serve as a question.

Tezuka was someone Kirihara knew primarily through reputation. The archangel was known to be "a pillar of righteousness" among the politer circles (of which hell had none) and a prick with a personality rivaling a slug by everyone else. He weighed his options, and decided the best way to act was straightforward... like always.

"Want to get rid of Sengoku?"

Tezuka's interest was admittedly peaked by this sort of statement. For multiple reasons, the least of which being he (of all angels) wasn't usually approached by devils interested in removing people. He rose from his kneeling position to sit on the pew instead. "That would depend on what you mean by 'get rid of'."

Kirihara knew that he would have to work carefully. "Get him out of the way. Imagine, life without having your leg molested!"

Tezuka pondered this, "Actually, I can not imagine that."

"Wouldn't your existence be more pleasant? Think of all the people he makes _miserable..._"

If Kirihara just wanted his help in damning Sengoku, he wouldn't bring up how many people Sengoku makes miserable. Ergo ... "What you are suggesting then, is an assassination."

Kirihara looked shock. "I would never ask an angel to be party to assassination!" Then a slight tilt was added to his head. "No, what I wanted was a bit more... permanent."

"Complete removal from existence."  
.  
"Exactly!" Kirihara beamed, pleased that Tezuka followed his line of thought. Death wasn't permanent enough - that Middle eastern man a few millennia ago had proven _that_.

"Why should I damn my immortal soul just to remove Sengoku?"

"I don't think it would damn you," Kirihara said. "You'd be acting for the greater good." Gotta love those loopholes.

It did have a certain circular irony that Tezuka could appreciate, though he was of the opinion only he would actually _get_ that circular irony. "And if I said I was not interested?"

"Then I work on using you in my diabolical plan in bringing Sengoku's end."

"Very clever."

"So are you interested?"

"Contrary to your belief, I do not actually want to see Sengoku dead and gone."

Kirihara made a face. "Does your leg secretly enjoy its love affair with him?"

"Yes. Yes it does." Tezuka managed to say that with a completely straight face.

Lightning flashed outside. Kirihara's eyes turned deep red, and he rose to his feet, a truly ominous figure. "On your own head let it be!" he thundered, storming out dramatically... until he tripped right over his feet on the last pew.

Tezuka sighed and settled back down onto his knees. It seemed Kirihara was determined to do himself in again. Oh well. Score one for Heaven.

* * *

Kamio Akira was never a calm person, which was why it was probably a good thing he was dating Tachibana An. An wasn't a very calm person, either, but by being around her, he spent a lot of time with her older brother, Tachibana Kippei Anytime spent with him was like taking a week at a spa. There was a soothing quality to his presence, similar to soaking in a nice hot spring that just made tension melt away.

There were other reasons he liked dating An. She was cute and fun, and she was always good at making him laugh. He knew plenty of guys were jealous of him for having caught her attention. She was the kind of person who knew when to ground him and when to encourage him to "go full throttle" and it was nice to be around a girl who was independent. She didn't cling to him, but knew when to ask for help. She was, to his mind, perfect. And when they got married - he planned on proposing to her next year on her birthday - he would be marrying into a wonderful family.

It was the one thing in his life that was going right.

As they sat down to dinner at An's house, a meal which her brother had prepared for the three of them since the Tachibana's parents were currently in Aruba, Kamio tried to let the stress of the day melt away. Tachibana was watching him closely, which meant that he'd probably be asked - in the kindest possible manner - about how things were going with him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to burden him. All in all, his troubles could be summed up through two things: math class and Shinji.

An liked Kamio a lot. He was fiery, persistent, attentive, and best of all: devoted, which was something that pleased An's girlish heart quite a bit. There was nothing quite like having a knight in mostly shining armor ready to ride to your rescue at a moment's notice, even if you sometimes had to restrain him from imprudently sallying forth.

She was by no means a fool. Not after having grown up in her family with her brother by her side, and she too could see that something was bothering Kamio. An let it pass, though, knowing that Kamio would talk when he wanted to talk, or when her brother got him to talk ... whichever came first, really.

Smiling, she was happy to engage Tachibana in conversation for as long as that circumstance took to occur. Today chosen topic was soft sciences versus hard sciences, and which was more useful in life.

Kamio was a bit lost, frankly. He was - gasp - a Japanese major, and the only reason he was taking anything with math or science in it because it filled the prerequisites. He actually rather sucked at anything with numbers in it, which was why he planned on becoming an elementary teacher. He figured as long as he could count to 100, he had it made.

When Tachibana asked An (who was not a Japanese major), about what she thought of the statistics course the school had just started offering, he wanted to grind his teeth. He could give them one statistic: another week in his math class and he'd go nuts.

He didn't quite understand how he'd ended up in a group of the amoral (Sengoku and Saeki), the inflammatory (Kirihara) and the sluttish (Yuuta and Mizuki). All he wanted was a passing grade, which seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach as the days ticked by. Occasionally Tachibana would stop by and throw water onto them, but for the most part, their little circus was just getting more and more outrageous.

He didn't even notice his chopsticks snap as he thought of them.

An did. She reached out and put a hand on Kamio's arm, looking concerned, "Are you okay, Akira?"

"I'm fine, An-chan." He really, really didn't want to burden her, especially with... that. His sweet An didn't need to know about the perverts that seemed to be stalking his life.

Tachibana cocked an eyebrow at his sister, nodding a bit for her to pull back. "Akira, I know math class has been trying for you."

Now that Tachibana had seen fit to intervene, it was like letting loose the floodgates. A furrow appeared on Kamio's brow and his mouth began to twitch. "TRYING? Is that what you call being forced to work with lunatics who don't care about graduating?"

An patted Kamio's arm before doing as her brother bid and pulling back, giving Kamio space to fume.

"I do not like being subjected to gay innuendo, let alone outright spit swapping! I think Mizuki and Yuuta would have at each other on our desks if they could! Call me homophobic if you want, but I am disgusted! Kirihara is a raving lunatic, and Sengoku baits him constantly! And Saeki eggs both of them on! Do you know what my chances of passes that class are?"

"Quite well, I'm your TA," Tachibana said calmly. "I think you need to remember Sakaki-sensei is a fair person who takes things into consideration."

"Really?" Kamio said sarcastically. "Wasn't he the one who failed all of last year's freshman 100 class?"

Tachibana sighed. "Extenuating circumstances, and he was overruled by his department head. Really, Kamio, just stay calm and you'll make it through it."

An nodded to this, "Don't let them get to you, Akira. They probably just like watching you explode."

Kamio knew too well that he had a temper. "I try to ignore them, but the fact is, they're idiots!"

"Sengoku has the highest average in the class," Tachibana said. "Kirihara, Mizuki and Saeki are all in the top ten."

Kamio wanted to slam his head against the table, but worried he'd drown in the sukiyaki. "So they're genius slackers! It's not fair for them to pull me down because they're bored!"

"Maybe you could not worry about the class itself and ask one of them to help you after class?" An suggested.

"Why would I want to spend any more time necessary with those..." Kamio started to gripe.

"I suggest studying with Yuuta," said Tachibana.

"You could make a lot of headway then."

"He's too busy giving head!" Kamio snapped, then turned a brilliant red as he realized exactly who he was speaking to. Clearly his mind was going.

An was very outwardly unperturbed. Inwardly she was giggling to herself at the idea of Yuuta giving someone head. "You could be a positive influence to him."

Kamio was still shocked he had said that in front of his girlfriend - and his girlfriend's _brother_. "I-"

"Akira, this really isn't what's bothering you, is it?" Tachibana asked in a quiet voice.

Kamio knew that Tachibana would eventually figure it out, and was a bit relieved. "Well, it's a part of it..."

"You have a problem with being around Yuuta because he's gay, don't you? Does this have something to do with Shinji?"

Trust Tachibana to see this at its root. "He's still staring at me." Kamio tried not to shudder. He'd been Shinji's best friend since childhood, but since Shinji had tried to kiss him three months ago, he hadn't been comfortable with him.

"I'm sure he just has a crush on you. It's going to pass," An shook her head. She'd met Shinji once or twice in one of her classes and though he'd struck her as being a bit odd, he was hardly the worst person to have hitting on you. She was of the opinion that given another target for his affections, he would lose interest in Kamio.

"He's been trying my underwear on."

An made a face, "Ew."

"I hear him yelling my name in the shower...along with someone named Oishi."

"Oishi? Who's Oishi?" The female mind is ever intent on connecting porn thoughts with real people.

"I don't want to know."

"Well, at least it's not just you he's thinking about."

* * *

Location: Sengoku's Office, a metaphysical portal that was never quite where it should be and had the exceptionally bad habit of following its secretary, Akutsu Jin, around when the angel bounced back and forth between heaven and hell. The aforementioned Jin stretched, flexing considerable muscles as he settled himself back into Sengoku's chair and put his feet up on the archangel's desk. He selected a cigarette from his collection and lit up, taking a long drag as he tipped to the side just so, which allowed him a clear and unobstructed view of the Playboy PinUp in the back corner.

It was not by any means an ordinary office. Such things never were. But while Tezuka's might have been the picture of respectability and inscrutability befitting an archangel, Sengoku's was a magpie's nest of what could loosely be called junk. There was a perpetual motion ball clicker on the desk, along with a long peacock quill, a pile of cigarette stubs in a ceramic bowl dating back to ancient Greece, a bright red plastic telephone, and a pad of paper that was never used and bore the letterhead "From the Desk of I Forget". Shelves stuffed with all sorts of holy books gathering dusk, pornographic magazines of every kind (considerably less dusty), and knickknacks like dogs with heads that bobbled in an invisible wind.

The clock failed to be on the wall. It was, instead, on the floor, and was actually a mosaic of the world with a spiral winding out from its center. At the center black point was a label saying "Beginning" and in the amorphous cloud of the back-end of the spiral was the label saying "End". Jin liked to jump up and down on the little moving dot that happened to be marked "Sengoku".

There was also a scale. It was a cute little curlicue of a scale suspended on nothing and usually resided on the shelf behind the desk. Jin ignored this at all costs. This was not because it was cute (Jin had a weakness for cute things), it was because it had a habit of groping his ass. How a scale could do this he didn't know, but he had long ago decided that its amorous advances were not welcome.

Time: Generally unknown, but a tag indicated vaguely before Sengoku's birthday. Mind you, this birthday had been looming ominously for some time, despite the fact that Jin hadn't actually seen a date attached to it. He suspected this was because Sengoku was waiting for him to buy a present. Sengoku would wait a long time for that, he thought with a smirk.

The office was full of all sorts of strange curiosities, but Yanagi Renji, contrary to his nature, was doing his best to keep his eyes square in front of him and ignore what was going on around him. He had heard _tales_ about what happened to the curious in Sengoku's office, and there were even some legends of angels not returning from it (one, Katsuo, was rumored to have gotten lost somewhere among the shelves for three decades - patently untrue, it was only two). Yanagi was always cautious, and while the glaring gray-haired pseudo-angel didn't intimidate him, the aroma of ancient delivery pizza did. He thought it probably came from the 70's.

Yanagi had been waiting for three days for Sengoku to make an appearance, despite an offer (well, you could call it that) from Akutsu to take a message. After watching Akutsu in action for about two hours, he decided that he'd made the right decision, despite the fact he was cooling his heels in an over-stuffed beanbag chair. He had his laptop, anyway, which kept it from being a total waste of time, though he was starting to worry that he'd run out of batteries before Sengoku would decide to show his super-cheerful face.

Sengoku, on cue with the failure of yet another battery, waltzed into his office, bypassed Yanagi completely and wandering around the desk to poke at the scale with a finger. "Any messages?"

Jin blew some smoke, lifted his legs to check if a message might be hiding underneath and set them back down. "Nope."

Yanagi cleared his throat.

Sengoku tickled the scale with a finger, regarding the little weights sitting on top of it with careful deliberation. All appeared to be in order. He turned and walked past the desk to stare at the blank wall, "Where's the clock?"

Jin smirked at Yanagi. "On the floor."

Yanagi ignored the weird object at his feet that looked like it belonged in a Salvador Dali painting, instead focusing on the angel he sought out. Akutsu's rudeness was to be expected, really. "Sengoku-san, I need to talk to you-" he started, but was interrupted before he could voice his objective.

By the bookcase, which was rattling. Sengoku tapped his foot, making a little ahem noise in the back of his throat. A grandfather clock slowly slid out from behind it and sidled up to its supposed place against the wall. It had more time wheels and swinging bits and little flashing numbers and a spinning roll of names that no clock should have. It was also too big to have actually fit behind the shelf in the first place.

Jin eyeballed it and the clock glinted its glass casing back. There was a deep, abiding, and long burning dislike between the two. Possibly over the scale's love. Sengoku had never been able to figure out how the dislike had started, nor when it had become a full-fledged cold war.

"I don't want to hear who called who names and who jumped on who and who left cigarette butts in whose internal workings." Both parties exchanged glowers once more.

The clock managed to behave itself, though, as Sengoku bent over and peered into its insides. All seemed to be well. Sweet. The visit had been a success! Time to make an escape before -- he turned and blinked at Yanagi.

Damn. Now they were _waiting_ for him. "Wassup, Yanagi?" Behind him, the clock began to inch away, shooting dark glimmers at Jin and rattling its workings ominously.

Yanagi's expression rivaled anything Tezuka could have produced for lack of reaction. He simple tapped a few notes on his laptop before carefully shutting it, then looking up (though Sengoku couldn't tell, seeing as how Yanagi's eyelids seemed to be melted shut) to evaluate his adversary. "Sengoku-san, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me a little bit about the last War." It was an incredibly stupid way to phrase his question, and Yanagi knew that as soon as the words left his lips. Words, though, could never be taken back.

"Last War? Oh, yanno. Lotsa water, floating survival boat, and a lot of angels bit the dust. Not to mention Yukimura kicked off Satan," Sengoku waved a hand and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.

"I was hoping for a bit of detail on the cause - the raid on the library?" Yanagi was relieved that Sengoku hadn't decided to take him literally and talk about what was happening on the mortal realm, and give him a blow-by-blow account on what was happening there.

Sengoku considered, "Was that the reason? I thought it was the bad seafood."

Sometimes Yanagi wondered if age caused senility in angels as well as mortals. Sengoku was clearly a few slices short of a loaf, and much as he adored Yukimura, the gentle archangel was a bit peculiar as well. "Sengoku-san, I need you to concentrate. The raid on the library. I need you to tell me what you know about it," Yanagi said, speaking the way he would to a child.

Jin smirked as Sengoku idly glanced around at his office, noting that the leaning tower of pizza boxes were getting out of hand again. Thankfully, the hellish minions would take care of that when Jin flipped to the dark side again. "Next to nothing, really," Next to nothing when compared with all that he had seen, heard, and learned over the last couple thousand years ... "I was with Tezuka at the time."

Yanagi knew that trying to get Tezuka to share war stories would be like trying to dye Atobe's hair orange. "Ahhhh..." he hesitated. If prodded, Sengoku would spout a ton of information, and then the trick was separating the gold from the dross. "Did you maybe happen to hear where the stolen books wound up?"

"Scattered across the hellish winds. Don't think anyone ever had more than a couple at any one time."

"It's impossible to destroy them!" Yanagi knew. Once he'd caught a devil trying his best to get rid of an account of a rather embarrassing incident, but neither fire, freezing, or a paper shredder at Kinko's had been able to dent it. As far as Yanagi knew, the things were made of the same material used to create heaven's gate.

"I didn't say they were destroyed," Sengoku said evenly enough, "I said they're probably scattered. As in individually separated. As in stuffed in someone's attic somewhere."

"Whose attic?" Yanagi asked. Sengoku knew something, he could just feel it.

Sengoku shrugged, "How would I know?"

"You're an archangel?"

"That just means I know more stuff than you. Not that I know _everything_." He did not, for instance, know the time of the end of the world.

Yanagi opened his mouth to argue, but the back of his right ear started to itch, a sure sign that someone was about to teleport into the place.

Sure enough, Atobe Keigo himself made a grand entrance, complete with the golden lights and glitter that were expected of someone of his stature, along with the serenade of the finest choir. Never let it be said that Atobe didn't know what style was - flashy, gaudy, eye-catching style, but style just the same. On the opposite end of the scale was Yukimura, who merely slipped through the door while Atobe made a show of himself.

Yanagi rose to his feet, nodded to the three archangels, and bolted for the door. There was no way he wanted to be involved in the upcoming scene.

Sengoku smiled ever so brightly at Atobe, "Well, if it isn't God's messenger boy." He just plain waved at Yukimura.

Atobe sighed and looked pained, but Yukimura seemed genuinely happy to see Sengoku. "Sengoku-san!" he said, waving a hand to his coworker. The smile on his delicate face abruptly turned into a cough as the smoke from Akutsu's cigarette drifted into his face. The coughing fit lasted a long moment, causing his eyes to water, and Atobe was finally forced to pound on the more delicate angel's shoulders in an attempt to help clear his lungs.

"Really, Sengoku, must you let the rabble in here?"

Sengoku ignored him and leaned back to poke Jin in the shoulder, "Yo. Turn on the vents. You're suffocating Yukimura-san."

Jin made every appearance of grumbling, but he reached down to flip a switch of some kind. He too felt the pull of Yukimura's shining sweetness and maybe was just a touch guilty at his pain. The ceiling fan kicked in with a rattle and immediately the room was clear of smoke.

Sengoku beamed happily at Yukimura, still ignoring Atobe, "So what brings you to my humble abode?"

Yukimura smiled his thanks at Akutsu, which made even the gray-haired angel melt a little bit. Akutsu was a sucker for sweet smiles, after all. "Sengoku-san, we're old friends, aren't we?"

"Colleagues at the very least, Yukimura-san old bean."

"Sengoku-san, you know me well enough that I wouldn't be bringing a small problem to you," Yukimura said. Very true. Yukimura had a very Buddhist attitude toward life, and tended to let matters wash right over him until it was nearly too late. Of course, he also had enough gumption to stab the Lord of Hell through the heart with a sharp, pointy object (thus giving rise to all sorts of vampire myths), so he was a rather interesting character.

"What he wants to say is that your not checking your messages is irresponsible, and we _do_ occasionally need to get in touch with you," Atobe inserted, annoyed that he hadn't been able to speak in the last thirty seconds.

Of course, that wasn't what Yukimura had intended to say at all.

Sengoku scratched his cheek, "Really? I hadn't realized" It was meant as a reply to both questions, though it had to be twisted just a little for Yukimura's slant to slip through 'Speak on'.

The phone rang. Both Jin and Sengoku ignored it.

Atobe stared pointedly at the phone. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Maybe I should look into getting you a new secretary. I hear that Kawamura might be available...."

"You know how hard it is to find good help these days," Sengoku replied urbanely. Ring.

Jin tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette, "You'd be lost without me." Ring.

"Yes. But lo. I hear the batphone!"

Jin happily took the plastic red phone of its plastic red hook, "Sengoku's Office." He looked up, "It's God."

Sengoku gave the phone a mildly curious look, "How's he sound?"

"Like God."

"Tell him I'm not here." Jin hung up. Sengoku refocused on his associates, mainly Yukimura, "Where were we?"

Atobe blinked. Then blinked again. As far as he knew, angels couldn't lie, so it had been God on the other end... and Sengoku and Akutsu had just given him the figurative middle finger. "You... blasphemous..." he started, wondering if murdering a sinning angel would be frowned on. Lightning began to crackle near his fingertips as he prepared to deal divine punishment.

Yukimura knew things were about to get out of hand, and stepped between Atobe and the object of his ire. "Ohhh, this is cute!" he said, picking up a random desk toy - one that resembled a rubber snake - and jiggling it around. "Where'd you get this?"

"From Microsoft! Isn't it cool?" Sengoku was more than happy to lean over the snake, head now bent close to Yukimura's, and coo over the little rubber doohickey.

"It is! Kinda slithery... like a snake!" Yukimura said.

"Here, watch. Poke its stomach and its tongue pops out," Sengoku demonstrated by stabbing a finger into the rubber underbelly of the snake and indeed, out popped a long red tongue with a 'thweee' sound.

Jin scanned the ceilings for God's rebuttal and wondered if Yukimura and Sengoku thought they were actually fooling anyone. A puff of cosmic smoke and a dove fluttered from behind the ceiling fan. Right on time, Jin noted. It settled on the desk and offered its leg to him, where a note was tied. Jin was more than happy to untie the note and read it outloud, "Ahem. 'Sengoku. You are a jackass. Love, God.'" It was only by supreme effort that Jin didn't snicker. For this and this alone, he loved his job.

"That's it?" Atobe looked like he was about to be sick as the lightning at his fingertips died away. He was used to being in God's Loving Presence (reveled in it, in fact), and seeing a minor miracle wasted on stating a known fact was rather deflating. Of course Sengoku was a jackass. But God was wasting time on a wayward angel when he could be... well, saving souls or something?

Yukimura merely smiled. "God works in mysterious ways."

Sengoku nodded to this. "Indeed. None can truly grasp the entirety of His divine plan. This too had a purpose." He poked the quill. "Scribble a note."

The quill rustled itself over to the pad of paper and poised, waiting.

"Dear God. Most high, god of hosts, creator of the world, etc, etc. Jackass is outdated. I prefer the term asshole. Praise, honor, and glory forever and ever, etc, etc. Love, Sengoku." Jin ripped the paper off its pad as the quill flopped back on the desk and rolled it up for the dove to fly off with. Which it did, with great puffing of smoke.

Sengoku beamed. It was good to be back in Heaven. "You had something you needed to tell me, Yukimura-san?"

Yukimur's face instantly became grave. It felt like telling a five year old there was no Santa Claus or taking candy from a senior citizen - a horrible, horrible thing had been done, and even Atobe felt a bit guilty, even though it was most assuredly not his fault. "Sengoku-san, I think you've been treating people a bit too... carelessly lately." And if Yukimura was actually voicing a concern, it was definitely a problem.

"He's being an asshole, you mean," Atobe said, the course word sounding odd from his cultured lips.

Sengoku blinked with apparent artlessness, "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember what happened the last time you really, really annoyed Tezuka?" Yukimura asked.

"What about the last time he annoyed _me?_ I was amazed he could grow that back that quickly," Atobe said, folding his arms across his chest.

Sengoku considered the floor clock, "Hmmm. I do seem to recall that," he looked up at Atobe and flashed a grin, "You're just not tough enough, I guess, messenger boy"

Atobe knew well enough not to argue that he was, in fact, God's right hand and Sengoku was the deluded one. "I'm leaving," he announced. "Just answer your messages, and please do it without swearing, or else I'll send Shishido and Ohtori to clean the place up." He smiled cheerfully, imagining what damage Ohtori could do to Sengoku's carefully constructed disarray. Then he flashed out, glitter and gold lights and all.

Sengoku looked not at all perturbed at Atobe's exit, since Jin would be heading to hell soon enough, taking his office safely out of range of the too pure Ohtori. He gestured to a beanbag, the one Yanagi had been occupying previously, "Have a seat, Yukimura-san, and tell me what you mean by Tezuka getting annoyed."

Yukimura cast a look at Akutsu, then shrugged a bit and managed to take the beanbag chair with grace worthy of a yoga master. "He had a rather interesting offer from a young demon who you've been tormenting, and for a second he almost considered taking it... decidedly unlike him. Allying with Hell, I mean."

Jin pulled out some paperclips and endeavored to create a weapon of mass destruction with them. The minute Sengoku left the office, he had a war to wage with the clock, after all. The doings of the holiest of holies held no interest to him.

Sengoku pulled his legs up and folded them beneath him, leaning back a little on the desk, "You know how it is, Seiichi. Occasionally everyone gets tempted by something."

"You also know that the past has a nasty tendency to repeat itself. I'm here as your colleague, telling you that young devil is not-" The sound of the clock ticking closer to Doomsday interrupted Yukimura, who shook his head as he tried to regather his train of thought. "Tezuka is seriously considering the benefits of removing you. He would have a justifiable case - and that demon can justify it from his side. When heaven and hell unite, it means the end. You need to remember what your job is." Yukimura's eyes burned with passion. "You need to remember that there is an importance to this existence, and we don't all exist as your toys." His speech would have been a lot more powerful if he hadn't been playing with the rubber snake as he made it.

"If Tezuka didn't consider the merits of each proposition, he couldn't properly refute them, neh? Besides, you can already guess how this will fall: either Kirihara will stay or he'll be removed." Sengoku's eyes idly followed the wriggle of the snake for a long moment before looking up at Yukimura with garden green eyes, "I haven't forgotten. I never forget. It is _my_ world, after all."

"It is _our_ world, Kiyosumi," Yukimura corrected. He rose to his feet slowly, moving to brush a quick, affectionate kiss against Sengoku's cheek. "One of these days, you'll remember that."

It was really no use arguing with the other archangel, so he didn't. Sengoku sighed, reaching out to tuck a lock of paling hair behind Yukimura's ear, remembering when it had once been dark as midnight blue, "Oh, go out and hack something distasteful on Atobe." 


	9. A Gathering of Angels

Paved with Good Intentions

by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.

* * *

_Part 9: A Gathering of Angels (Plus a Devil Or Two)_

When Tezuka had made a quick trip to heaven to obtain Fuji's address from Yanagi, he had not expected to be surprised and he wasn't. Not that he was often surprised, really. Spending time with his archly angelic colleagues had pretty much beat that emotional possibility right out of him. He sometimes wondered if 'surprise' even existed anymore in his personal dictionary.

He snapped into existence with his usual precision and tightly defined beam of power, where he was promptly met with a scene of completed debauchery that also wasn't a surprise. Three mortals at once? Fuji had been busy, it seemed. There was a pair of twins looped around each other like so much spagetti and a Shinji spooned up against the twin with longer hair, a smile of bliss still plastered across his sleeping face.

Tezuka pointedly ignored both the state of undress and the smattering of fluids better left unidentified to focus in on Fuji, who unfortunately was also in a state of undress and splattered with unmentionable fluids. Tezuka decided to stare at a point just above Fuji's shoulder in the area of his ear. Another flicker of power sealed the mortals quite neatly into a deeper sleep while he waited patiently for Fuji to bother to acknowledge his presence.

Fuji smiled a cat-like smile of contentment. Shinji hadn't been that good a lay, but he'd been desperately eager to please, which more than made up for his lack of experience. The twins, who'd he been training for the past month, were nearly broken in perfectly, though, so all in all, the last few hours had been quite pleasant. Having Tezuka walk in at the end was merely icing on the cake, because he could taunt his prey.

Tezuka observed the sewing of the sheets with carefully studied boredom, solving Fermat's Little Theorem in his head.

Stretching slowly, Fuji trailed a hand down the spine of the nearest twin before unwinding himself from the sprawl, completely unashamed of his nudity. "Did you want something in particular, Tezuka?" he asked.

"Yes. I would appreciate it if your minions did not plot the complete annihilation of my associates." Tezuka wasn't one for beating around the bush, especially when quickly getting his business done meant he could _leave_.

For a minute instant, Fuji lost his laid back poise, twitching as he realized who was up to what. Then the smile found its way back to his face. "Didn't you realize we're evil? We're supposed to be bad."

"Of course. That is to be expected. However, you usually do not bother to include _me_ in your schemes for my associate's annihilation - and I do mean annihilation, Fuji, not death."

"Well, I'm sure Kirihara's just a bit of an overacheiver... trying to damn you and get rid of Sengoku in one fell swoop. He's a little prodigy, isn't he?"

"So you are watching them. I had wondered."

"Watching who?"

"Sengoku and Kirihara."

"They're rather amusing, don't you think?" Fuji yawned daintily. "Care to hand me that shirt on the chair over there?"

"I am sure." The shirt lifted itself off the chair and flung itself at Fuji's face.

Fuji somehow managed to use the shirt's momentum to his advantage, deftly catching it with one hand, slithering into it like a serpent. The dress shirt was too big to be his, but he apparently didn't care, buttoning it up in a slow, reverse strip tease.

Tezuka ever so calmly readjusted his focus to the headboard, putting Fuji quite effectively into this blurred peripheral vision. "You should rein in your minions now and again. It would be unfortunate if this were to spark off another war."

"There's never been a divine war without the leader of Hell getting involved, and I have no intention of upsetting the status quo at the current point," Fuji replied. He'd be stupid to, since right now the balance favored Heaven (barely, but it did). He slipped off the bed, moving over to stake his claim on the chair (which had straps on it). The shirt barely teased the top of his thighs.

"A couple of select assassinations would no doubt tip the status quo in your favor," Tezuka idly observed, turning to follow Fuji's motion to the chair. He would have been inviting trouble if he hadn't. Who leaves their back open to the Lord of Hell? Tezuka kept his gaze very carefully to the top and right of Fuji, keeping him in that blurred periphery. There was no point staring at temptation head on, either.

"Which would easily be countered by a concerted effort at you redeeming some of my key players," Fuji said, waving it off. "Really, Tezuka. There's rules we play by."

"I am not coming to you because we are playing by the rules. Annihilation, Fuji, not _death_. You know as well as I that death means nothing. Kirihara wants something permanent."

Fuji sighed, and the blue of his eyes was clearly visible as he stared at Tezuka. "I am well aware of the situation."

"And you plan to do nothing." It was a statement and not a question.

"My plans have always been my own," Fuji said smoothly. "Of course, if you wanted to try to persuade me to tell..."

"No," it was short and to the point, accentuated by the barest tightening of an inexpressive mouth and followed by the ever so polite, "Thank you for your time, Fuji. If you will excuse me, I will waste no more of it."

Fuji pouted. "Pity. I'm sure there's room for you, if you feel like-" He didn't get to finish.

Tezuka vanished from the room without sound, though the air rushing into the space he had abruptly left did make an impressive crack.

* * *

No matter what, some things were pretty much guaranteed. The sun rose (when it could be seen through the smog), the Cubs lost (it was Niou's favorite team to watch, after all), and Sakaki Tarou held math class. Which meant the usual suspects were in a room, shivering a bit at an unseasonable cold snap.

Unlike Hanamura-sensei, who taught the other section of calculas, Sakaki took attendance. Miss two classes, and you flunked, so sorry, see you next year as you paid to be tortured to replace the F. Hanamura was a bit kinder, perhaps, but a few of the three tests she gave were so hard that NASA had requested she reconsider its job offer. She refused, saying she liked working with young minds (actually, it was young bodies she was interested in, but her relationship with Shinjou thankfully doesn't come into this story). 

The point was that Monday saw Kirihara in a room with Sengoku, considering various methods he could employ to finally get that fucking bastard.

You know how it is when someone is glaring daggers at the back of your head. Tick Tock. Contemplating just stabbing you maybe, for the hell of it. Tick Tock. Sengoku looked up, vaguely disquieted. Tick Tock. Where was that -- oh, of course. Tic -- he closed his pocket watch and slipped it back into, well, his pocket. Damn newfangled noisy machinery.

Where were we? Oh yes. So there was Kirihara and there was Sengoku, and it should be obvious what Sengoku was doing: snickering wildly while making funny faces at Kirihara.

In the front of the room, Sakaki droned about something (probably to deal with math, but there was no telling - he was awfully fond of Mozart). Kamio had wisely found a seat across the room, and Mizuki and Yuuta were way in the back, doing unspeakable things to each other. Saeki had started next to Sengoku, as per usual, but his highly developed instincts of self-preservation had sent him to the bathroom... from which there was no doubt he wouldn't be returning. 

Kirihara's thoughts ran in its standard pattern. _Murder, kill, torture... murder, kill, torture, murderkilltorture, _repeating like a loop on an old-fashioned record player that kept jumping the track. The red head didn't seem to acknowledge the sheer _danger_ he was in... so what if he was an archangel? Kirihara was going to be the next...

Well, it's better if he didn't think about that. No telling who could be reading his mind.

Sengoku's thought processes ran along the lines of 'well, someone's always out to get you, so why worry', he was also admiring the fine bit of leg the girl down the way was showing, not to mention the effects of the electromagnetic waves slowly penetrating the earth, and the way Saeki had fled with true outstanding grace. He had to admire that. Oh yes, and he thought his hair might be burning. Sengoku patted it out before anyone noticed.

Kirihara blinked in surprise as the slight whiff of smoke from Sengoku's hair drifted upwards, dissipating smoothly with no one noticing except himself. He hadn't _meant_ to do that, but sometimes his temper got the better of him. But maybe the fire thing had something going for it...

Narrowing his eyes, he sent out a drift of power to create a small fire right under the fire alarm nearest the boy's bathroom. Thirty seconds later...

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGG! 

Sengoku turned in his chair to give Kirihara a look. Everyone else around him gave a not so silent cheer and packed up their bags, stampeding for the door.

The cat-like smile of contentment on Kirihara's face couldn't be contained as he sauntered for the door. "Poor Saeki... how foolish of him to leave just then, don't you think? I hear campus security is really cracking down on these incidents..." he said, brushing passed Sengoku. If you couldn't torment someone directly, torment their friends.

Sengoku swung his bag over his shoulder, "So cold, so cold ... and to someone you're trying to damn, too."

"He doesn't need any help - besides, I don't think temptation would work on him. He does what he wants anyway."

"Abandon all hope all ye who enter here."

They brushed through the crowd of students, many of whom decided to take off instead of waiting patiently for the building to be reopened. Kirihara, never one to deny a chance to play hooky, headed for the cafe, deciding to grab something to eat. Annoyingly, Sengoku stayed by his side.

Like mildew, he was. It would take a strong fire to remove him, and you know how it is with really _bad_ mildew ... might take the whole house down with it. Sengoku grinned and eyed the selection of food that was really grease, grease, little grease, and more grease. "So whatcha want?"

"You to suffer eternal torment, cursing my name for damning you there in the first place?" Kirihara said brightly, playing it safe and grabbing a pre-packaged bag of popcorn and a drink. Smiling at the cashier, he waved over to Sengoku. "He's paying."

"Hmmm, guess I do owe you a small sum ... " and with that Sengoku very cheerfully paid the lady with the correct change and a button (after grabbing a small animal roasted on a stick that may or may not have been a chicken).

By anyone sane's recogning, the fact that the two arch-enemies (well, that's not quite right, but...) were seated at the same table munching on a mid-afternoon snack playing hooky was a recipe for trouble. They would be correct.

"Tell me, Sengoku-san, why an archangel like you is bothering with a small-fry assignment like this," Kirihara started, opening his food carefully.

Sengoku leaned back, eyeing his critter on a stick with mild interest, as if to divine from which animal this deep friend flesh had come. "I thought you would have figured that out by now."

"Shinji doesn't seem to be that much of a focus." Kirihara frowned as he thought it through. "You're just bored, aren't you?"

"Possibly," Sengoku contrived to look innocent.

Kirihara popped a couple of pieces of popcorn into his mouth. "Seriously. Isn't there a war somewhere you should be playing with?"

"There hasn't been a good war for ages, and it's so much more interesting here!"

Kirihara opened his soda, which miraculously managed to explode all over him. He didn't think he'd shaken it.... and all he could do was swear as the Jolt! went all over his clothes and pooled into his lap before being absorbed by the material. He blinked slowly, trying to keep his temper in check.

Sengoku struggled not to crack up right then and there. Really. He made a good effort. Such a good effort that he leaned over the table and licked Jolt from the tip of Kirihara's nose.

Kirihara blinked at the green eyes which were two inches from his own. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked. Around them, the cafeteria came to a standstill as two very cute boys confronted each other in what was obviously a very private moment. One girl took photos with her cell and sent them to a friend, then scooted around to find a better angle in case they ended up kissing. Real live boy action!

Sengoku grinned, "Helping you clean up the mess."

Kirihara smiled a bit. "You do realize I hate you with every fiber of my being?"

"Yes," the answer was as even as anything could be, "Though I am curious as to why."

Kirihara wasn't quite sure if there needed to be any specific reason. "You just irritate me." True, but it was hard to explain how being around Sengoku was like being a cat with its fur getting rubbed backward.

Sengoku settled onto the table, using his elbows to prop his head so he could look up at Kirihara, "Oh ho Little Kiri doesn't like getting irritated?" It was a deliberately mocking singsong.

"I spend my life in a constant state of irritation. I'm only happy when someone else is miserable. It's two reasons why I'm very good at what I do."

"Hmmm, perhaps I should offer to do something to ease your irritation ... as a servant of God and all that."

Kirihara muttered something under his breath, of which only "servant" and "Fuji" were audible.

"Am not! Me? Bend to Fuji-kun? You must be joking!" Sengoku managed to look affronted.

"Fuji's very flexible." Kirihara gave up trying to use the napkins from the table, and decided it was a good time to leave. "I need to go change... goodbye." He left the bag of soggy popcorn and half-full container behind, assuming the cafeteria staff would clean it up.

Sengoku abandoned his stick of unknown meat and trotted after, not quite obviously watching the way Kirihara's backside moved beneath his clothes.

The hall was too full of students to teleport, and that girl with the camera was still trailing him. Kirihara scowled as he heard the distinctive rhythm of Sengoku's footsteps, the light sound of someone bouncing only on the balls of their feet, like the earth's gravity was not meant to contain him.

Sengoku bounced forward, looping an arm through Kirihara's and tugging him into a classroom. It was momentarily empty and Sengoku stepped with Kirihara out of the plane of the real and into the metaphysical without pause before tearing them both out of the natural immortal plane of the metaphysical and into the ephemereal. Order, chaos, the jerk of natural forces, and they faded into the library as though stepping out of shadows into light.

They were back in the bookstacks, and Kirihara pushed Sengoku away, sending him into the bookshelves. "Do you know you just violated one of the most sacred treaties?" he demanded. "No divine being takes control of another's freedom!" He was pissed. He was beyond pissed, soaked with sticky fluid and in the presence of someone who he loathed. His eyes began to flicker red. Amazingly, no one came to check on the disturbance, maybe because of the fact ehy were used to unusual sounds coming from the stacks... or it might have had something to do with the "Closed for Repairs" sign on the door of the entire facility.

Sengoku pushed himself carefully away from the bookshelves, shaking himself as if to dislodge bits of attached knowledge, "You did want to get away, didn't you?"

"Bastard! You just screwed up my assignment deliberately - miraculous teleportation is not going to be overlooked!" Kirihara planted himself agressively, his feet slightly apart and leaning foward beligerently.

"Miraculous teleportation by you not by me. And we didn't teleport per se ... "

The look Kirhara leveled cut Sengoku off. "Can it."

"Mou"

Kirihara stalked forward, fully prepared to rip Sengoku's heart out of his chest. "I'm cursing you. I curse you, Sengoku Kiyosumi, archangel of heaven-" he started, formal words that were rarely used. A demon's true curse was something as precious as an angel's blessing, and as potent. A curse from a demon who had been wronged had the power to topple nations.

Sengoku sealed his mouth over Kirihara's before he could finish the sentence. If there was anything he didn't want, it was Kirihara's curse ... if only because it would screw things up royally. Really. That was the only reason. Truly.

Kirihara found it hard to talk with tongue down his throat, and Sengoku was a _Damned_ good kisser. Kirihara was a demon, and always more sexually inclined than most, and having someone French you like he meant it was enough to make you forget how mad you were at that moment.

Sengoku looped an arm around Kirihara's waist and pulled him closer, blithely unconcerned about the spread of sticky Jolt. Kirihara tasted like fire and popcorn and something that was just himself and Sengoku didn't want to stop. Who needed to breathe anyway? That's what power was for.

Kirihara hated Sengoku, but it made it spicy since he knew he'd kill him later. Sengoku kissed like his personality - teasing and not quite serious, but with an underlying something Kirihara couldn't quite grasp. Kirihara's hands ran over Sengoku's shirt, finding a smoothly muscled physique, before reaching down without embarassment to unsnap the button of the angel's jeans. The long, slow sound of the zip being dealt with filled the air between them, and Kirihara pulled back, challenging Sengoku with a smirk. "I don't love you, this is sex and sin. Going to play, angel boy?"

"I wouldn't be kissing you if I didn't, neh, my own?" Sengoku purred, sliding fingers into Kirihara's dark hair and jerking him close for another kiss. He wanted this and the rules could go and hang themselves.

Kirihara let himself be kissed before pulling back. "I'm going to make you _scream_," he purred, hands going down to Sengoku's waist to push his pants down.

Sengoku's fingers tightened, tugging sharply in curling locks, "I don't think you're demon enough for that."

Kirihara merely smiled before sinking to his knees. He knew a challenge when he heard one, and he never lost.

* * *

It took a lot of alcohol to get an angel drunk, since in their earthly incarnations, they had supernatural healing. The old "one an hour" rule didn't apply - their bodies processed it in about ten minutes per drink. But Oishi hadn't stopped drinking since Shinji had gone home with Fuji yesterday, which meant even he was feeling it.

Oishi, remarkably, was tipsy.

He sat at the bar, which he had closed already. It was nearing 2 a.m., and he was throwing back sake like it was going out of style. The neon lights advertising that YES, there was Budweiser! in the front window were the only illumination in the entire place.

Where there are tipsy angels, there will be a devil. Or if there isn't one, there will be shortly. Kikumaru Eiji appeared with the customary air displacement crack ten minutes and seventy-six seconds late. He considered a fashionable lateness, but was still glad no one had beat him to the Tipsy Angel Punch.

Eiji sidled over the bar and smiled at Oishi benignly, "Oishi-san"

Oishi looked up blearily at Kikumaru.

Eiji reached out to trail fingers not to subtley down Oishi's cheek, "Neh, Oishi-san, I'm lonely. Keep me company tonight?" It was a purr, soft and seductive.

Oishi caused a bottle of sake to levitate over to Kikumaru. "Help yourself," he said, not really paying attention. How, how, how had his assignment gone so wrong? he wondered. It was his fault that Shinji was on the road to hell. He hadn't done his job right... Oishi was the worst kind of drunk: a guilty one.

Eiji took a swig out of the bottle on demonic principal before making a face at Oishi, screwing himself up, and belting out a, "OISHI! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"

No reaction from Oishi. It was questionable if he still had a pulse, from the slightly dead look on his face.

Eiji was annoyed. He was being _ignored_. He was a demon, by darkness, and no angel was going to ignore him! "OISHI!" No response. "OISHI!" No response. Eiji lunged forward, grabbed Oishi's face in his hands, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. 

Oishi blinked at the sudden assault. With a slight sigh he leaned forward, deciding that he'd screwed up enough so one more massive mistake really wouldn't matter.

Eiji purred and deepened the kiss, licking along Oishi's lips with an inquisitive tongue.

Oishi shut his eyes, and let Kikumaru do what he wanted. It felt good, at least, and Oishi had forgotten what "good" felt like. Of course, it wasn't really "good" since it was a sin, but apparently there were different types of "good..."

Eiji was utterly gleeful. This was victory! This was success! This was ... too easy. He made a face and pulled back, "Oishi!"

"W-what?" Oishi stammered. He had just started feeling good again, and now Eiji seemed determined to talk to him instead of... well...

"What's that all about?" Eiji put his hands on his hips, "You're _supposed_ to be fighting me."

Oishi just sighed and looked at Eiji. "You know, the universe is supposed to have purpose," he said, changing the topic.

Eiji stared at Oishi like he had lost his mind, "Well of course it does! You keep it alive and I destroy it! See! Plenty of purpose!"

"No." Oishi shook his head. "Mine's to be a screw-up."

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"

Oishi started muttering in a fashion that was reminscent of his damned charge. "I screw up so Tezuka keeps fishing me out. If I didn't screw up, I wonder how things would be? I mean, I guess there has to be someone who is an example of what not to do...."

Eiji stared at Oishi in complete disbelief. This was crazy talk. Crazy talk! What angel talked like this? Oh, that's right, one that could be damned. Eiji checked the room quickly in case any other devil might be sneaking up to take advantage of his target.

Oishi was still muttering about his failures. "You know, it would be better if I didn't screw up in the first place... I just cost a mortal his soul, and I don't think I can fix that..."

"Eh?! You cost a mortal his soul?" Eiji was mortified! Oishi! Costing a mortal his soul! Without help! He was supposed to be the one to teach Oishi all those things! Then Fuji would be pleased and scratch behind his ears!

Oishi winced. "It wasn't intentional, I just didn't do a good enough job. Of course, when you're pitted against Fuji himself, it's hard to protect someone, but I should have done something..."

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?! But I'm supposed to be the one who takes Shinji away from you!!! Fuji-san, no fair!!" Eiji wailed.

Oishi sighed and patted the wailing inubus on the back. "Want to get drunk with me?" He levitated another bottle over. "Mezcal... even better than tequila..."

Eiji flailed, "I don't want a drink, I want to get EVEN."

Normally Oishi would have dreaded that, but at the moment it seemed like a swell idea. "Sure. Let's drink to it." He took a long swallow directly out of the bottle before handing it to Eiji.

Eiji took a long swig and thumped it back down on the table.

Oishi smiled, his thought processes suddenly clear. "So, how do we go about bringing down the Lord of Hell?"

"We get some good allies?"

"I know just the angel."

* * *

Meeting a denizen of Hell was always a tricky business, but for Yukimura, there was the added complication of his health. Despite suggestions they meet in Disneyworld, Yukimura had politely demanded it be held in Purgatory. 

Denied the hope of getting to visit Disneyworld at angelic expense, Dan pouted on the top of the red slide, pushing himself down it in a desultory manner. He kicked the sand in the Purgatory playground for lost youngsters and gave Yukimura a look of extreme woe. That was all it could be described as really: a look of extreme woe.

It was hard not to feel a little bit of pity, but Yukimura was ruthless. It was true that the playground was substandard and didn't meet safety codes (the floor was made of plain old sand instead of any kind of synthetic version), but he figured it was better than what the demon usual got to use. He sat on a swing, watching the sulky demon as he tried to decide what to say.

Dan twisted his face up into pout #23 and pointed dramatically at Yukimura, "You owe me for this one!"

"You were the one who decided to come even when I made my terms clear." Yukimura offered a smile which was eerily reminiscent of Fuji's.

"Doesn't matter! You still owe me."

Yukimura merely cocked an eyebrow, hitching his hands up the swing's ropes. There was no way he'd get into a divine debt over something so silly. "Aren't you interested in why I wanted to see you?"

Dan made a hmphing noise. "Probably over something happening on earth." He couldn't help but be a bit bitter about the fact that _he_ couldn't go to earth. It had been so long since he had gotten to play ...

"You're partially right." Yukimura looked consideringly at the devil who was one of the oldest beings in existance as he frolicked around the playground. "It's something to do with Sengoku, actually."

Dan paused, "Sengoku-san?"

"Yes." Yukimura motioned to the swing next to him, indicating Dan should take a seat. "There's some potential trouble, and I need you to help me sort it out."

"What kind of trouble?" Now Dan was curious, as anyone would be. Why would Yukimura being worrying about Sengoku-san? Despite the standard reasons ... but they were all used to _that_.

"I know we usually let him do what he wants, but..." Yukimura hesitated. "Dan, you're old enough to remember. What happened the last time Sengoku was in a romantic relationship?"

"There was a lot of sex?" Dan asked with every look of innocence, finally climbing into the swing beside Yukimura.

"Dan. I need you to focus here," Yukimura said calmly. "Remember the flood?"

"I remember that," Dan smiled, recalling the time fondly. So much water to play in. He had puffed up an inner tube and floated around.

"Yes." Yukimura could be patient. "That."

"That was hardly the fault of Sengoku-san's romantic relationship."

"It was certainly a trigger." Yukimura looked a bit distant as he thought about what had happened. "Dan, hardly anyone's left that remembers what happened, and it's up to us to keep it from happening again."

Dan tipped his head to the side to look at Yukimura, only to have his headband fall down over his eyes. He pushed it back up before sighing, "The circumstances aren't the same, Yukimura-kun."

"It's close enough to be worrying. You know as well as I do that Kirihara..." Yukimura was interupted before he could finish.

"It's not the same," Dan reiterated sharply, "Stop seeing the past in the present just because you can't play anymore!"

"History repeats itself. You know as well as I do that we're stuck in a series of loops."

"And you're afraid, aren't you? That this time you won't make it."

"No matter what happens, I will do my duty." Iron edged Yukimura's words.

"Duty. Duty. Duty. Always about duty. Where's your _faith_, Yukimura-kun?" Dan returned, in words just as sharp. He pushed back on the swing to get some motion started and rocks back and forth for long moments before asking quietly. "Are you asking me to side with you against Sengoku-san, this time?"

"I'm asking you to get Kirihara _away_ from Sengoku. If not, I'll be forced to kill him."

"Kill Kirihara-kun ... " Dan could acknowledge that there would be benefits to having the younger demon removed, if only to strengthen his own position int he demonic ranks, "I don't think you _could_ kill Kirihara-kun, Yukimura-kun. Not unless you had someone else do it."

"Why not? I killed him before." 


	10. Demon Lovers

**Paved with Good Intentions**

by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 10 Summary: _In Which Three Hyotei characters make their first appearance._

* * *

Most people didn't expect life-altering meetings to happen at a convenience store (unless there was a robber and a gun present), but that was exactly what happened to Fuji Yuuta on a rather bleak morning a week after meeting his sister. Yuuta had woken up relatively early and Mizuki had promptly sent him to fetch coffee, bagels and aspirin from the nearby Ju Ju Store, which is basically a chain similar to 7-11, except the food selection was a little smaller and the prices were a lot higher.  
Yuuta had been having a strange week. Saeki had actually gone out to see Yumiko again, which was something of a rarity, since Saeki was famous for his "love 'em and leave 'em" approach to gender relations. It bothered Yuuta a bit to know his newly-found sister was getting her jollies with his roommate, and once he'd even shut Saeki up when the other man had started to describe _exactly_ how proficient Yumiko was with her tongue. There was some things a guy just didn't want to know about his sister, never mind that until a few days ago, Yuuta hadn't known she'd existed.

Yuuta wandered through the store, looking for raison-sesame bagels, since they were the only kind Mizuki would eat. Sadly, it seemed that they'd all been sold, which meant that Yuuta's lover would be sulky for hours over not getting his way. Yuuta stared into the empty plastic container, as though he could will them to appear.

Akutagawa Jiroh was a demon. Not a particularly high level demon and not a particularly effective one, unless one counted being an example of slothdom effective. Frankly, heaven hadn't been too troubled to lose him to Fuji after the war, since he hadn't been a very effective angel either.

As a matter of fact, Jiroh had been sleeping (for the most part) on and off _since_ the war. This particular trip to the local earthian drug store was actually an accidental thing. He had meant to go to the pillow factory that had been located on this spot three centuries ago and he was mighty befuzzled that it was no longer there.

Jiroh stood by the bagels and poked them all listlessly (in a very unhygienic way), as if hoping they might turn into pillows.

Yuuta noticed the rather peculiar actions, and frowned in annoyance. There was no way he'd be able to eat one after seeing Jiroh's rather grubby fingers pawing them. The thought that the other man regularly did this made him rather queasy, actually. He bought bagels here regularly.

"Stop that," Yuuta said, finally snapping when Jiroh flipped a bagel over, inspecting it without much interest.

Jiroh turned to tell Yuuta a very distinct 'no, I don't want to', but he paused, momentarily startled. That was ... that was ... he blinked and squinted with the inner demonic eye. "YUUTA-KUN! Oh my god, Yuuta-kun! It's been centuries!!!" Jiroh flailed, voice suddenly loud and exuberant as the demon bounced around Yuuta like a revitalized otaku receiving a poki box after an eternity of want.

Yuuta, as anyone would have been, was a bit confused - and scared of the maniac who abruptly stopped bouncing, and grabbed him in a friendly bear-hug that threatened to squeeze the life out of him.

"Yuuta-kun! I thought you were dead! I'm sure you were dead! But you're not dead! You're alive! _Just_ like a Fuji. Oh my god, Fuji-san is so cool, isn't he, Yuuta-kun?!" Jiroh practically squealed in his ear.

It was frightening to know this guy knew his name. "Um, I..." He blinked, trying to sort out what was going on. First his long-lost sister appeared, and now a lunatic was raving about another Fuji... and it probably wasn't his father. That meant it was probably the brother Yumiko had mentioned in passing.

Jiroh sighed happily, just imagining all the things that they could get into now that Yuuta was _back_. Hell was going to be a great place .... "Hurry up and finish buying things, Yuuta-kun! We need to get back to Hell right away! Fuji-san is probably waiting for us!"

"Hell...?" Yuuta echoed. This lunatic was dangerous! He squirmed, trying to get out of Jirou's arms, which were locked around him tighter than a chastity belt. "Who are you, you freak?" he demanded.

"Me? Don't you remember? I'm Akutagawa Jiroh, Devil of Sloth, formally angel of something or another that probably wasn't too important because I've forgotten it." Jiroh let go of Yuuta long enough to manage a sloppy salute before glomping again.

Yuuta froze, wondering if anyone would notice he was being molested by a fruitcake. "That's... nice, Jiroh-san... Can you let me go?" he asked, deciding that Jiroh couldn't help that he had a few screws loose and it would be best to play along. This guy belonged in an assylum.

Jiroh released Yuuta, but only so he could dance around him with glee. "Oh, this is so great. Now that the Fuji brothers are back together, heaven had better watch out! Stupid old Satan ... what was he thinking when he killed you, anyway?"

Something about that last statement echoed in Yuuta's head. To give a comparison, Jiroh's words had the effect of shaking up a can of soda and then handing it to an unsuspecting victim. There was a ton of pressure inside, waiting to get out, and Yuuta was feeling rather like that stressed can. It only needed a hand to pop the lid before everything exploded.

"Who... are... you?" Yuuta whispered. Around them, people were politely not staring, looking at everything except the two rather attractive males locked in an embrace.

"I told you, Yuuta-kun! I'm Jiroh! I'm your Fallen!"

Yuuta's head was throbbing, and he turned rather pale. _Jiroh... Fallen..._ "I... I know you, don't I?" There was something familiar about the maniac, in an "old shoes" sort of way.

Jiroh grinned. "Of course ... hee, in the Biblical sense."

Yuuta would have sworn he lost his virginity at 15 to a rather flexible guy named Kajimoto, and he would have remembered sleeping with this cute blond. His brain was threatening to explode out of his skull, and he groaned, clutching his head. "I... I..." he stammered, on the verge of a breakthrough.

"Yuuta-kun? Mou, is something wrong?" Jiroh leaned forward and rubbed the top of Yuuta's head as he hummed gleefully. "Me and Fuji-san will make it better."

Yuuta grabbed his forehead, unable to make sense of what was happening. Images of things he'd never seen before flashed through his mind, dominated by a face he had never glimpsed. The only thing he knew was he had to get _away._ Something bad would happen if he listened anymore.

With superhuman strength, Yuuta broke free of Jiroh's hands, dashing for the door. Of course, he forget to get the coffee and bagels, something which Mizuki would scold him about for days.

"....." Jiroh blinked and then scratched his head, wondering why Yuuta had decided to run off so quickly. Oh well. It was probably important hellish business .... he looked around for a place to nap. They'd wake him when they needed him. He grinned. That would be fun.

* * *

The Library. Source of all knowledge (outside of God). Home of all information (way too much information). Inui suffered a moment of this phenomenon of TMI and snapped the book he had yoinked off the shelves with a clapping sound. There were some embarrassing incidents in the hellish past that a demon just really didn't need to be reminded off ... as well as the first chat about the mating habits of small slugs. Really. This wasn't the information he was looking for. Okay, so he really wasn't after the information specifically this time around, but Inui couldn't resist pulling books off to read them when he visited the library ... and it also gave him a good reason to "wander" into Shishido Ryou, former resident of hell and hopefully a possible current ally. "Ah, excuse me, Risen."

Shishido, eternal poster boy of angst and a long-time devotee of the school of suffering for your sins, was sitting at the librarian's desk. When he'd followed Ohtori to heaven about a millennium ago, the archangels had been rather stressed about what to _do_ with him. After a rather unsuccessful century under Atobe's wing as a messenger of the Word of God (the less said about that, the better), he'd bounced around departments before finally settling in under Yanagi's eye in the Library. It wasn't the best solution, since he was constantly exposed to his former coworkers from Down There, but his utter tone deafness ruled out the choir and he refused to be a guardian angel, since it would part him from Ohtori for way too long. He found being a library aide rather dull, really, but it was something to do while Ohori sang the day away, and heaven had strict rules about being lazy.

He preferred the boredom, though, to being harassed by Inui. That devil knew more about these stupid books than he did. "What do you want?" he asked.

Inui's glasses glinted. "I do not suppose you know where some books are?"

"Maybe you need to get your prescription fixed," Shishido said dryly, glancing at the shelves and shelves around him. Rumor had it that Inui had damaged his eyes in one of those experiments of his, but it had never been confirmed.

"I fail to see what my prescription has to do with you not knowing where the books in your domain are, Risen."

"They're all around you, stupid," Shishido said irritably.

"I am seeking specific books."

"Use a card catalogue."

"I desire the angelic contact."

Shishido picked up a pencil and started to twirl it between his fingers. "So sorry, I'm busy." Just because he was stuck working here didn't mean he had to be helpful. There was still enough demon left in him to make him stubborn - well, he'd met a few stubborn angels in his time as well.

"Busy being idle? Is that not the devil's workshop?" Inui had decided that being an asshole was the best way to irritate the traitor.

"No, I'm currently getting closer to God by contemplating the complexities of this pencil. Everything has a place in the divine scheme." Shishido had gotten good at dealing with demons determined to taunt him.

This was the point where Inui felt it was time to throw in a non-sequitur. "Did you learn those techniques from Sengoku?"

"Sengoku?" The pencil slipped from Shishido's fingers as he lost Inui's train of thought.

Inui adjusted his glasses. "Indeed. I had not pegged you for the cheating kind ... "

"Cheating?" Shishido squawked. Cheating was something he'd given up when he'd taken up with Ohtori.

"Indeed. How else could you learn such ... interesting habits from someone of such station. Brown nosing, Risen?"

Shishido was feeling very lost. He hardly had anything to do with Sengoku. The archangel was persona very non grata for most of heaven's host. Shishido could count on one hand the times he'd met with him. "What are you getting at?"

"What happened to the books that were taken from the Library at during the War of the Flood?"

"Huh?"

"Just answer the question, Risen."

"I'm not old enough to remember," Shishido said. "How would I know?" He was seriously starting to wish he was still a demon so he could damn Inui back to Hell where he belonged.

"Have any books lying around?"

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Shishido asked, starting to get the idea. Apparently Inui was looking for a book which had gone missing during that long-ago war, though it was a serious question _why_.

"Nothing specific."

"Is everything okay, Shishido-san?" came the bell-like question from an equally bell-like source. Inui glanced to the side without actually moving his head as the benign and concerned countenance of the angel of chastity appeared from around a corner.

Ohtori Choutarou was the very vision of what an angel was supposed to be. Bright, white feathers adorned the wings that seemed a permanent attachment to his back, clear-voiced, and reeking of innocence and purity. It was enough to gag Inui at thirty paces. He took a judicious step back to put him outside the thirty paces range. "Ohtori."

Ohtori smiled a smile that shot a bright light of purity into the thirty-one pace mark and made Inui back up another step to escape it. "Hello, Inui-san. How can I help you?"

Shishido gave a look of mixed affection and longing at his partner. Being around Ohtori was like drinking very bitter wine sometimes, Shishido thought, heady yet unsatisfying. He'd follow the beautiful angel anywhere, but since Ohtori was who he was, he'd never actually be able to _do_ anything with him. It was a very sour pill to swallow, but life without him would be more unbearable.

Inui felt the urge to summon backup against the obvious power of the forces arrayed against him. Ohtori smiled at him again and he inched subtlety to the side to avoid it's beam, not unlike a cockroach, really. "Do you happen to have any books lying around, Ohtori?"

"What kind of books?" Ohtori blinked eyes full of pure unadulterated innocence that couldn't be that innocent if he was deliberately following Inui with his smile.

"Books that got lost during the War of the Flood," Inui asked, shifting his glasses in hopes of reflecting the smile back with evil aura.

It was hopeless, for Ohtori vibrated in good will. "Perhaps you should ask someone who remembers the war, Inui-san? I wasn't even created yet!"

Had Shishido been a demon still, he would have smirked. But since he'd given up All Things of Evil, he merely gave Ohtori a soft, warm smile. "That's a good idea, Choutarou. Weren't you just talking about Sengoku-san, Inui-san?" Okay, maybe all the demon hadn't been removed after all, but it was still a good suggestion.

"I've already spoken to him," a smooth voice inserted from above the stacks, and the trio lifted their heads to see Yanagi perched rather neatly on top of the nearest shelf. "Hello, Shishido-kun. It's nice to you're being so diligent."

Shishido twitched a bit as he saw his supervisor. Yanagi had a _thing_ about being on top of things, literally. It made it very hard to play solitaire on the computers, since there was no telling where Yanagi would show up next. "Just doing my job."

Inui had shifted around until Shishido was between him and Ohtori, which he hoped would block the angel of chastity's beam. He glanced up at Yanagi. "Did you? I hope it was a fruitful discussion."

Ohtori leaned to the side to smile at Inui from around Shishido. "Should Shishido-san and I leave you alone, Yanagi-sempai?"

"There's no need," Yanagi said, rather enjoying how Inui was squirming. It wasn't sadism, exactly, so much as seeing someone suffer the consequences of the denial of God's love. Really. "You might be able to offer some suggestions." He quickly explained their quest to find the missing volumes in heaven's library to the two angels.

"So?" Shishido wanted to know. "Why now?"

"It's been an issue for a while, but there's been a few precipitating events that's made it rather imperative that we have that information available so we can make plans... both from heaven and hell's perspectives."

"You mean Fuji trying to get into Tezuka's pants?" Shishido asked bluntly.

"Shishido-san! You shouldn't -- "

"Why not? It's true," Inui interjected smoothly, despite the fact that he was feeling distinctly persecuted. "Does this mean that there were no significant discoveries made here, Renji?"

Ohtori made a clucking sound in Inui's direction and glanced in Yanagi's direction. "We'd be glad to help you, Yanagi-senpai."

Shishido tried not to groan, but the shimmering smile Ohtori turned on him made him forget about everything except those big, chocolate brown eyes.

"I'm afraid Sengoku is just as air-headed as ever. I think we're going to have to talk to Yukimura or Dan. Yukimura's been a bit busy lately, but I think I can conn Sanada into arranging an appointment for me. Can you handle Dan?" Yanagi asked Inui.

Inui adjusts his glasses, "Talking with Dan about subjects of this nature never bring forth answers. He has the mental capacity of a five-year old." It was gross underestimation, but it was still something Inui considered to be a god-given truth. Age seemed to bring a strange senility to devils.

"I hate resting all my hope in Yukimura..." Yanagi said hesitantly. He truly did like the ancient angel, but Yukimura was sometimes secretive, and while there was usually good reasons for it, it was frustrating.

"Ask Fuji," Shishido said with an indifferent shrug. "Bribe him well enough, he'll tell you what he knows."

Inui considered the notion, for it had some merit, before shaking his head, "I do not think Fuji will be forthcoming ... frankly, I begin to suspect something like a conspiracy at work among the aged. That or senility."

Ohtori gave them all a curious look, not quite understanding why everyone was complaining about senility. He thought Yukimura-san and Sengoku-san were beacons of light and hope, dispensing wisdom as God decreed. Surely Yukimura-san was sweet and delightful and Sengoku-san had given him the most useful information in regards to turning the doorknob the other way ... but his elders certainly knew more about these things than him. "Maybe you could just look it up?"

"Look it up?" Yanagi blinked curiously.

Ohtori bestowed Yanagi with a downright strange look, as if befuddled by the fact that the Librarian of all angels would _not_ think of looking in the Library first. "Of course! You may not have some books ... but certainly you have all the others, right?"

Inui stared at him.

It took a second for Ohtori's logic to process. "Eventually... the book's location would have to have been recorded somewhere..." Yanagi said slowly. He stared at Inui, unable to believe neither of them had thought of it before.

Inui smirked in what could be called glee. "That is ... brilliant." He didn't feel bad about complimenting an angel in this matter, not bad at all.

Ohtori rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I meant more that context tells a greater story than the event itself ... but that works, too!"

Yanagi resisted the urge to plant his face in his palm. "Never mind. Shishido, start researching. You're on special assignment."

Shishido stared at the books in undisguised horror. "But... that could take centuries!"

"I'll get Ohtori pulled off choir duty to help," Yanagi said. "Hop to!"

Inui grinned in manic delight and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Is it not wonderful, Risen?" he asked with a smirk, almost bounding to the shelves to start an immediate search through history.

Ohtori sighed. "Wouldn't it just be easier to read the books from right after the war?"

"It's a place to start," Yanagi said. He summoned the first two volumes from after the war and dropped them on the desk in front of Shishido and Ohtori. "I suggest you get busy - it could be there, or a couple thousand volumes later.... history isn't always terribly linear."

Ohtori sighed, but pulled the book towards him with determination and flipped it open to begin reading.

Shishido managed a glare at Inui, and would have said something devastatingly nasty to Yanagi, but Ohtori's shining presence at his side reminded him he was supposed to be one of the Good Guys now. Instead, he took the other volume and started to read about the third plant that started to grow after the flood, and tried not to yawn. Sometimes he wondered if he ever left hell after all.

* * *

Had Sengoku not known Kirihara as well as he did, he might have been surprised at how impeccably neat Kirihara's room was. The demon had managed to convince the university to grant him a single (which was really the size of a triple, but somehow a bureaucratic error had been made), and it was all perfectly in order. Dirty clothes, instead of being on the floor, were in a hamper; books were precisely set on the desk; and Sengoku would wager that the food in the mini-fridge was all unspoiled. It was unnatural clean, exactly the opposite of what anyone who knew the rather chaotic Kirihara would expect - unless they _understood_ him.

Kirihara was a control freak.

Some things, Sengoku decided, simply didn't change. Control freakism appeared to be one of them. He smiled to himself, idly reaching out to rub a palm across the sleeping Kirihara's stomach as his eyes tracked from object to object. A place for everything and everything in its place. He supposed this meant he got to be tacked to the wall or chained to the bed, whichever seemed more satisfying at the time Kirihara finally got around to dealing with Sengoku.

Sengoku twisted in the sheets, turning a purposefully blind eye to the fact that he had been engaging in some major sins not eight hours ago, and curled around his demonic lover, burying his nose in dark, curling hair.

Kirihara squirmed a little bit, pushing the hands away as he stirred slightly. Demons didn't dream, but when in earthly form they did require sleep - not always as much as their earthly counterparts, but they still needed it. After a rather exhausting night, it was no wonder he was still out of it.

Sengoku hummed and replaced his hands, settling into a mimicry of vine on a tree, or possibly a blood sucking tick. Angels required as much sleep in human guise as demons, but for some reason Sengoku couldn't truly account for, the older he got, the less he seemed to sleep. He decided to chunk this into the category he marked: relatively useless information.

Kirihara's eyelashes fluttered open slowly, resembling a flower slowly blooming. It was subtle and beautiful, the long dark lashes giving way to the stunning blue-green eyes which were a study in confusion. It was clear the demon wasn't awake enough to have a clue what was going on.

Which was really all the reason Sengoku needed to lean over and kiss him.

It wasn't anything out of a fairytale. Sleeping beauty Kirihara wasn't - he didn't warm up to his prince. Instead, he bit Sengoku in his half-sleeping state, lapping at the blood he drew with his pointed tongue.

After being so horribly accosted over a simple matter as kissing one's lover awake, there really wasn't anything to be done except bite Kirihara back.

It was something Kirihara understood. Their teeth, tongues and lips met, and Kirihara's hands clawed at Sengoku's back, which he had become quite familiar with in the last twelve hours. He smirked as Sengoku drew blood, coming fully awake. "I thought you angels weren't supposed to hurt others?" he purred, drawing a hand down to Sengoku's body, his nails leaving track marks behind.

The track marks sealed themselves in trails of smoke without any thought on Sengoku's part. He bit at Kirihara's lips again, wanting a proper kiss this time. "That was divine punishment, not injury."

"You're always so clever," Kirihara said. "How are you going to explain _this_ away, though?" he asked. His lips nibbled on Sengoku's earlobe teasingly. "You're wallowing in sin."

Sengoku purred, "And it is a delicious wallow," he replied, shifting to press against Kirihara more fully. "Besides ... I haven't fallen quite yet ... " The devil, they say, is in the details.

Kirihara was confused, as usual, as to exactly how Sengoku was getting away with it. The sex, though, was fantastic, even though Kirihara had been topped about six times since it had started. Not that Kirihara particularly found it horrible to be an uke - no, he just found it horrible to submit to _Sengoku_.

Sengoku, on the other hand, was frightfully pleased about being able to top the demon and almost as pleased with smirking up at him while being uke. He almost took pity on Kirihara's confusion, but held his tongue. It wouldn't be a good idea to let on to any sort of weakness in the presence of one who wanted him dead, even if they had been somewhat mollified by the sex.

When Sengoku pinned Kirihara back to the bed, clearly ready for round seven, Kirihara smiled a bit. "Do you intend to fuck your way to hell, then?"

Sengoku grinned back. "There are worse ways to get there."

"I don't think you're going to live to see Hell," Kirihara said. "I still want you dead." He traced a fingernail across Sengoku's jugular threateningly.

"You can't want me dead _that_ badly ... " Sengoku murmured, reaching up to run a finger down the back of the hand that was threatening his throat.

The playfulness in Kirihara vanished. "Yes, I do."

"Why?"

The puzzlement that marked so much of Kirihara's dealing with Sengoku was vivid in the demon's face as he offered a rather thoughtful reply. "I hate you. I mean... I hate everyone, but I despise you. The sight of you literally makes me want to destroy you. I've never been this passionate about anything in my existence before," Kirihara said slowly. "It's like... we can't exist in the same creation. As long as you are around, I can't be happy."

Silence. Sengoku rolled off Kirihara and flopped onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Talk about completely ruining heaven's chances of ever recruiting you for the good guys ... " the voice was flippant.

"Right now I don't think Heaven is going to want to have much to do with you, sinner," Kirihara said, though there wasn't much smugness in his voice. He felt divorced from his surroundings, like what was happening at the moment didn't really matter in the long run.

"Didn't I say I wasn't quite fallen yet?" came the retort that was supposed to be mocking, but didn't manage it quite well.

"Only because heaven's too bureaucratic to process your discharge papers promptly," Kirihara said. He stared at his lover with a vague amount of interest. "You know, I'd wonder if you were angling for Fuji's position, if I didn't know better."

"Eh, you have to get into the big gun sins to even get into line for that position. Indulging in lust hardly counts as a big gun sin."

"Then what are you after?" Kirihara asked. There had to be some reason why an archangel would risk damnation. He honestly couldn't remember if an archangel had Fallen before, but he didn't think it'd happened.

"Now why should I tell you that?" It was said in a mildly curious way.

"Because I gave you three blow jobs last night?"

Sengoku snapped his fingers, "You did those of your own free will, dammit ... " Damn, that was practically a heavenly debt. "Fine. I'm after you."

"Me?" Kirihara knew Sengoku had been more than a bit interested in him, but this was a bit much to believe. "Why me in particular?"

"Sorry, that answer cannot be angled out. Your blow job currency has been depleted. Please restock."

Kirihara scowled, realizing that Sengoku was probably going to worm his way out of answering no matter what the demon tried. The sour expression remained on his face as he scooted off the bed, careful to kick Sengoku - hard - on the way. "You're a bastard." Glancing at the clock, he wasn't surprised to note that it was passed noon and he had already slept through his morning classes.

Well, that hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. Alas ... Sengoku sat up, rubbing his kicked side only on a matter of principle. "That I am, but then again, so are you." 

"I'm supposed to be." Kirihara waved a hand, and the clothes from the closet and drawers magically whipped onto his body. "Get your somewhat angelic ass out of here, okay?"

"Argh! Rejected again!" Sengoku mimed a thrust to the heart and flopped back on the bed.

Kirihara flipped him the middle finger and marched out of the room, slamming the door firmly behind him.

Sengoku fished a feather out from underneath his back and gave it a woeful look. It was all black and twisty. That was probably not a good sign ...

"I think you need to be taking better care of yourself, Sengoku-kun," a voice said, drifting out of the shadows of the free-standing wardrobe.

"Eh, get out of the closet already, Fuji-kun," Sengoku answered, propping himself up on his elbows.

The devil stepped out of the closet, wearing a rather somber black ensemble. His face lacked its usual playful smile as he stared at the feather in Sengoku's hand. "I would ask how you've been, but I think the answer is rather obvious."

"Well, it seems that I'm molting. Isn't it just the cutest thing?" Sengoku waved the feather around like a wand. "Here to give the damning stroke?"

"Hardly." Fuji walked over to Sengoku and plucked the feather out of his hand. "The last thing I want is for you to fall."

"Ah, yes ... that would put a crimp in a lot of plans." Sengoku stood, letting the sheets fall as he stepped out of them, clothing snapping into existence to take their place. He was silent for a long moment, walking over to the desk to cheerfully rustle it's contents out of place.

"Sengoku." Every ounce of Fuji's authority laced through that word.

"What?"

"If I think this continues to be a problem, I'll remove the source of your temptation myself."

"That seems to be a running theme with the two of you lately." It really was a nice day outside. "Does this mean I get to watch for conspiracies on both sides instead of just one?"

"Oh, no." Now the smile which Fuji was so noted for was out in full force. "Unlike the idiots in my employ, I am quite aware of the role you play and have every intention of seeing you play it. However, if other people get in the way, well, I can't guarantee their safety." Sengoku was actually treated to little sparkles as Fuji tilted his head becomingly. "It might be a good idea for you to make sure you behave properly to protect your loved ones, though."

Sengoku actually turned and raised an eyebrow. "When did you fall under the impression that threatening Kirihara was going to make me do what you want me to?" It was hardly up the level of Fuji's usual style.

"I'm leveling with you, Sengoku. In all of existence, you're probably the only one who is as much of a manipulative bastard as I am. If we start to scheme and plot around each other, we may inadvertently destroy the world." It was definitely odd to hear Fuji speak in such a straight-forward fashion. "I want you right where you are, and I know exactly how important Kirihara is to you. I frankly want him gone; the only reason I haven't destroyed him before is _because_ of you. If you set one toe out of line, I will cheerfully let Yukimura stab him through the heart or ask Tezuka to use him as a practice target at sword training. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. Except for the minor detail of planning to kill him myself. So how about this? He dies before I want him to and I'll go off and take a merry Fall. It'll be ever so much fun." Sengoku smiled, pleasantly, brightly, but there were teeth in it.

For the first time since Yuuta had been killed, a hint of alarm showed in Fuji's face. The repercussions of Sengoku suddenly showing up in hell would be catastrophic. "I'll leave him alone, but you had better get your act together. Or else I'll have to do something neither of us want to consider."

Sengoku was just really tired of hearing everyone tell him what he _should_ be doing with Kirihara. Mostly it seemed to involve lots of blood and just ignoring him. Sengoku couldn't decide which option was worse, really. "Is that all you wanted to say? Or is there any other pressing business I should know about?"

Fuji's smile was catlike. "Not really... except that I think Kikumaru is about to damn Oishi for conspiracy to commit your murder."

"I have to applaud his sudden appearance of a plan, that's something new." Sengoku grinned. He hadn't thought Eiji had it in him.

"Well, it's really supposed to bring me down, but you know in the end it'll be targeted at you, since that's the way all these plots seem to be working," Fuji said smugly. "And Oishi started it."

Sengoku rolled his eyes, "I'm just _so_ loved. Oishi. I am shocked and aghast. Really. I am. Somewhat. He was really drunk, wasn't he?"

"Most likely. I kind of seduced his charge." Fuji laced his fingers behind his back and swayed back and forth as he did his impression of a schoolboy trying to play the "who, me?" game.

Sengoku is not fooled by the 'who me' game, especially considering he _was_ dealing with the devil himself. "You're up to something." He nodded sagely and leaned against Kirihara's desk, reaching up to muss the curtains out of line.

"Course I am, Mr. Pot," Fuji replied. "Nothing that really effects you, though."

"Have you seen Yukimura in the past millennium? Is it just me or is he getting _real_ pale?" It was a complete non-sequitur.

Fuji was never at a loss. "I'm sure you're a better judge that me, since we demons tend to get pretty good tans. Maybe you should suggest he should go to one of those nude beaches I got pushed through..."

Sengoku sparkled for a moment at the thought of the nude beaches before shaking his head. "His hair is pale too." He tapped the side of his head. "Maybe my eyesight is fading ... "

It was impossible not to laugh. "Well, there's worse things that could go." To illustrate his point, Fuji wrapped his arms around Sengoku, snagging a quick kiss, careful to stroke him in a most tantalizing way.

That, Sengoku decided, was not playing at all fair, so he looped an arm around Fuji and pulled him closer, stealing another kiss. "That's true. Between the two, I would definitely pick the eyes to go the way of all flesh."

"Well, it seems like your flesh is still perfectly fine," Fuji said, resting his hand temptingly on Sengoku's groin. "There's a perfectly good bed here..." He knew what the answer was going to be - or hoped he knew. Having sex with someone else on your lover's bed was definitely a sin.

Sengoku reached up to tuck strands of Fuji's honey colored hair behind the devil's ear. "Maybe next time. You can't expect a decrepit old geezer such as myself to be capable of a seventh round."

The playfulness in Fuji's face melted away as he stepped out of Sengoku's arms. "You know, Sengoku, there is one more option you don't seem to have considered."

"Oh?" was the curious sound as Sengoku folded his arms behind his head. There were new and completely undiscovered options?

"Kirihara would cease to be a problem for both of us if he was on _your_ side," Fuji said.

"Cute as it may be to see him in a halo, he's not exactly what we call 'suited to the light'."

"We all have the capacity for both good and evil, Sengoku. Even him."

Sengoku smiled. "Hopefully you can toss a little bit of your careful manipulations into the mix, then. Everything I say to him goes in one ear and out the other."

"Anything for an old friend, Kiyosumi." This time the slight points on Fuji's teeth sparkled as he smiled. "The last thing I'd want to do is upset you, after all." 


	11. With Complete Angelic Splendor

**Paved with Good Intentions**  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 11 Summary:_ In Which many characters are naked._

* * *

_  
Part 11: With Complete Angelic Splendor_

Saeki Kojiroh knew he had been framed from the depths of his completely pure (Okay, so it wasn't completely pure. It was kinda blackened around the edges and was in the shape of something vaguely phallic) soul. That fire had set itself. Swore to God. Yup, yup.

That fire, unfortunately, had landed him in Hanamura-sensei's office. He slouched down in his chair, giving the overly organized place a wary look. Organization was the sign of a deranged mind and cleanliness, the devil. Definitely. He thought about making a break for it out the window.

Hanamura Aoi studied the truant student across from her desk, a grave look on her face. She never would have suspected that Saeki, of all people, was a bit of a pyromaniac, but that just went to show that you couldn't judge a book by its cover. She adjusted the glasses on her face as she considered the possibility of gleaning the secrets within the pages of this particular book, and decided it was a decidedly pleasant prospect.

"You do realize the gravity of the situation, don't you, Saeki-kun?" she asked, holding a manilla folder containing a list of accusations in front of the junior. It really was quite colorful - while Saeki had always sidled through school, there were numerous occasions where he had been on the periphery of "incidents" and one academic probation. Topped off with the arson attempt, well, the phrase "his ass was grass" came to mind.

"I didn't do it!" Okay, so it wasn't his greatest conversational opener.

"Do you know how often I hear that?"

"I swear! It's not even my style!"

The sound of her flipping through papers as she stared at his college transcript filled the room for several long moments. "You certainly must admit that the college has reason to doubt your sincerity... drunkenness in your first year..."

"Who doesn't get a little drunk in college?"

"Then there was the incident with the jell-O and the football team...."

"Who doesn't razz the football team?"

"Anyone who values their life? I understand security in your dorm had to be increased for the rest of the semester..."

Saeki brushed those aside like trifles, "But I never set anything on fire before! And I didn't do it this time!"

She ignored him. The sound of her flipping papers stopped as her lips twitched. "My personal favorite, was the indecent exposure incident you and a co-ed were involved in by the fountain. I understand she transferred after that, but you saw fit to remain...."

"That was just a little sex play ... " he slouched just a little lower in he seat, wishing he had backup.

Her eyes narrowed a bit, and the smile turned a bit predatoril as she prepared to corner her prey. "Was setting the building on fire play, too?"

"I didn't set that fire!"

It was a vicious circle. Hanamura recognized that no matter what she did, the student was going to protest his innocence, and the college had only circumstantial evidence that he had suddenly become a firebug. Personally, she doubted he had - he was right, it wasn't his style. Saeki was a sensualist, someone who took pleasure from getting involved in the experience. Setting a fire and running wouldn't be any fun for him.

She sighed thoughtfully, pushing her way back from the desk and coming around to seat herself on its corner - which happened to put her chest less than ten inches from Saeki's face. "Let's say for a second I believe you, Kojiroh-kun."

Expellable situation or not, Saeki hadn't suddenly turned into a chick, and even if he had, he still would have been mesmerized by _those_ breasts. His eyes riveted to them. "Okay ... "

"There are procedures that must be observed, and even if the college doesn't expel you, you may face legal prosecution. Arson is a crime, after all... and I'm only a mere administrator, head of the math department or not..." She shifted a little bit, looking weary, and incidently joggling her chest.

Saeki's eyes bobbled up and down in time with her chest. "Okay ... "

"I do happen to be very good friends with the arson investigator," and the way she said _friends _left little to question about what kind of "friends" she meant, "so I might happen to have some pull with him - and I might be persuaded to have a word with him on your behalf. I take care of my friends and... special students very well."

It was an effort of extreme willpower to leverage his eyes above the level of what he was sure _had_ to be her nipples. "What would I have to do, Hanamura-sensei?" It was one of those incredibly silly, yet apropos questions that he couldn't _not_ say.

She smiled at him. "I do happen to have a degree in biology, and I'm working on a masters as well. Currently I'm conducting a study of the male reproductive system. Would you be willing to volunteer to help?"

Saeki licked his lips. This was straight out of those exceptionally bad porno videos he had stuffed under his bed. Obviously there was a god in heaven, because if this was ... oh yeah. Score city. "Sure, anything you want, Hanamura-sensei."

She reached over and started to unbutton his shirt.

Saeki vowed that he would stop by the shrine and send up some offerings first thing. _Someone_ needed to be thanked for _this_ windfall of fine female flesh. He happily reached up to slide his hands underneath her shirt.

It was a long, sweaty half an hour later when the two finally found themselves on the floor, idly tracing their hands over each other. Every now and then Hanamura would point to some piece of Saeki's anatomy and teasingly mumble a scientific name before treating it to a kiss or a caress.

Of course, that was when the door opened and Fuji Yumiko walked in, looking incredibly hot in a short black shirt and a low-cut black top. Her bitch boots clicked on the floor as she came to a rather surprised halt. She looked like a slut, but at least she was dressed.

Hanamura sprang up, grabbing the nearest article of clothing in a vain attempt to cover herself. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" she squawked, somewhat panicked. Dammit, she thought she had locked the door! Images of her brilliant career going down the toilet like so much refuse began to dance in her mind.

Yumiko studied the scene with pursed lips. "Hello, Kojiroh-kun. Yuuta told me you'd be here."

Saeki knew no such thing as shame. It was not even a word that graced his active vocabulary. Which meant the reason he was edging in the direction of the desk had more to do with 'hell hath no fury than a woman scorned' rather than anything to do with baring all to the world, "Hi, Yumiko ... how's IS Yuuta doing?"

"Well enough." The voice was brittle.

Hanamura was starting to hyperventilate. "Who-who is she, Kojiroh-kun?" she demanded, nudging him with her foot rather rudely.

"She's Fuji's sister," Saeki answered, diving behind the desk as though it were a bomb shelter. "We've been ... hmmm ... fucking." Finding no other way to put it, he just told it like it was. He smiled brightly and waved at them before ducking out of sight.

Yumiko was not to be deterred. She locked the door, trapping the three of them in the same room together. "It looks like you two have been, too!"

Hanamura was beginning to wish she hadn't gotten up that morning. The sex had been great, Saeki knew exactly how to make a woman purr, but the aftermath left something to seriously be desired.

"What's wrong with that?" Saeki asked from somewhere behind the desk, holding up a pencil like a flag of peace. "How else am I going to get out of that stupid fire accusation?"

"I don't have a problem with THAT!" Yumiko fumed. Her hands went to her hips in the time-honored tradition of women everywhere.

"You wanted to be invited?"

"Of course."

"Well, dammit, woman, you need to say these things before I leave the dorm in the morning." Saeki's head popped out from behind the desk.

"Well, there's no time like the present," Yumiko replied, smiling brilliantly, apparently forgiving the gaff.

Hanamura Aoi had always sworn she was straight as an arrow, but as Yumiko stripped her skirt down to reveal a very tantalizing G-string, she revised her sexual allegiance. Bi. Defiantly Bi.

* * *

The nice thing about being a demon - well, one of the nice things - was amazing healing capabilities. Not that Kirihara was a patch on Sengoku, but it still came in handy. Otherwise he would have been limping after such an exhaustive amount of sex.

Kirihara decided that skipping class would probably be a good idea while he sorted himself out. The fantastic fucking of the night before had definitely shaken him up more than he would ever be willing to admit - imagine, an angel knowing how to use his tongue like that. And Sengoku's hands were enough to tempt a saint into sin... ironic that Sengoku was supposedly one of the righteous.

Since he couldn't go back to his dorm room without provoking another encounter with He Who Must Not Be Named, and there was no way he was going down to Hell feeling as... well, vulnerable.... as he was, that left the tried and true hooky place of all students everywhere - the arcade.

Dan Taichi was old enough to have accumulated a few tricks at tracking others down. He could have gone the easy route and questioned Inui about how to find Kirihara, but for some reason, Inui wasn't around Hell. Dan figured he was probably doing his best to sex the enemy up for complete and unwatched access to The Library. It was Inui's type of quest.

So that left good old fashioned hunting. Otherwise known as bouncing from crime spot to crime spot and scenes of utter idleness in search of a demon at work. All in the guise of a little kid.

Dan grinned as he poked his head around the corner of the latest fighting game and spied Kirihara. "Can I play, Kirihara-kun?" he asked brightly, jingling some change in a suggestive manner.

Kirihara shut his eyes slowly, counting backwards from ten (skipping seven and three since demons always cheated), before turning around to meet his new company. The game behind him shrilled loudly, indicating the death of a character, but Kirihara didn't care. He'd been working on seeing how many of the cute little red-headed elves he could kill in five minutes, anyway.

"Dan-senpai." He stared hard at the shorter demon. "What are you doing here?"

Dan made innocent look #73, "I wanted to play video games."

"And you oh-so-conveniently choose the arcade I'm at?"

"I was in the area," Dan said, looking ever so falsely accused.

Kirihara rolled his eyes. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Yes?"

There was a certain style to Dan's innocence that Kirihara couldn't help but admire. It was annoying, but most people would have fallen for those huge puppy eyes. Even a demon would think twice about saying something that could upset someone so naive. "Whatever," Kirihara finally conceded, unable to stand the cute expression. "I suppose you happen to think of something you wanted to talk to me about, since it's convenient?"

"Maybe," Dan climbed onto the game's pedestal to grasp the controls next to Kirihara, "But first I want to play!"

The overly-sharp tips of Kirihara's incisors flashed as he made room for the other demon. He was one of the best at this game - all the high records had his name attached to them. "Shall we?" he offered.

Dan slipped some change into the machine, "Yes!" Kirihara may have been good, but Dan was determined to try to be better.

Kirihara just smiled politely, preparing to thump the senior demon - only to end up getting blown away.

Dan giggled and blinked, smiled and beamed ... and then generously offered to play Kirihara again. Best two out of three, of course ... then three out of five ... and four out of seven ... Dan giggled again and pointed at the little red-headed elves on screen. "Those look like Sengoku-san!"

Kirihara's character died an abrupt death as he jerked his head around at the mention of _that_ name. He really didn't want to think about the crazy angel.

"Mou, you died Kirihara-kun."

"I can see that," Kirihara replied sharply. Not only was Dan insufferably cute, but this winning thing was getting even more annoying. Kirihara couldn't figure out how he was being outclassed - he was already cheating, and Dan was still outscoring him!

Outscoring was simple matter when you happened to be cheating. Not minor cheating, fundamentally cheating. Nipping a little at the workings of the cosmos type of cheating. For Dan, if there was to be cheating, by the devil it would be unmatched cheating. He giggled again and hummed a little ditty under his breath, "We've got you dead, stake through your heart, cut of your head, and dance in your dust, ladadeda"

"You're tone-deaf," Kirihara growled in frustration. A demonic headache was about to start, he could feel the tension across his forehead. "What do you want, aside to put me in your own version of hell?"

"You should be careful, Kirihara-kun."

"Careful?" Kirihara echoed, more than a bit confused. Where in hell did that come from?

Dan let go of the controls and turned to smile sweetly at Kirihara. "Yukimura-kun doesn't like you any more."

"Yukimura?" Something was up, and Kirihara couldn't figure out what. "I've never meant the do-gooding twit." Wait... the way Dan had phrased that.... "You mean he liked me at one point?" The idea was repulsive.

Dan shook his head, "Not like _that_," he looked around, as if wondering if any mortals might be listening, "I mean he's actually paying attention to you ... and well ... wants you dead?"

It took less than .2 seconds for Kirihara to comprehend that one. Apparently his liaison with Sengoku had caught the attention of heaven's higher-ups and was not viewed favorably. "So? It's not like he ever ventures off of his ivory cloud. What can he do?"

"Yukimura-kun killed Satan-kun, remember?" Dan squinched his fingers together as if to mimic squishing a bug.

Kirihara had doubts about that, since he'd heard how ineffectual Yukimura was due to his weak constitution. "Uh-huh - and he hasn't been healthy since. He's a has-been."

Dan can hardly refute Kirihara when he happens to agree with him. "He'll find someone to do it for him."

"Like who? Sengoku isn't going to listen to him, Atobe doesn't listen to anyone, and Tezuka is a friend of mine." Okay, he was stretching the truth about Tezuka, but he foresaw the day when Tezuka would cave to the "let's eliminate Sengoku" plan.

"Fuji-kun."

Kirihara burst out laughing.

Dan blinked at him and then stomped his foot, "He would!"

"Fuji respects talent! I'm corrupting an archangel-" not precisely true, since Sengoku was already one of the most corrupt creatures Kirihara had met - "and plotting on damning a focus!" Kirihara shook his head, chuckling. "Really, I'm helping him. Fuji has no reason to destroy me." Never mind that Fuji didn't need reasons for most things he did.

"You're too young, Kirihara-kun," Dan sighed, "Fuji-kun will destroy you just to keep you away from Sengoku-san."

Kirihara's laughter ceased abruptly. "Why? Am I invading his turf? I thought Fuji was after Tezuka..."

"Do you really think he would _want_ Sengoku-san to Fall?"

Kirihara had a simplistic view of the world. "Of course! Think of the blow that is to heaven!"

"Think what a blow it would be to Hell's hierarchy to have an archangel Fall. Fuji-kun's own position could possibly be threatened."

"If he's not strong enough to keep it, he deserves what he gets." Kirihara had plans for Fuji's position, anyway. In a few more millennia.... but maybe having Sengoku knock Fuji out of the pecking order would be beneficial. A whole bunch of new schemes began to dance through his mind.

Dan sighed, shaking his head. Why were the young ones always so short-sighted? "Fuji-kun will kill you before he lets that happen."

"I'll kill him first."

Dan stomped on Kirihara's toe. "Idiot!"

"Ouch!" Kirihara yelped, bouncing back from the video games. "I'm going to turn you into cinders!" he threatened, but was checked by the presence of humans who were suddenly paying too much attention to them.

"I want ice-cream and I want ice-cream right now!" Dan stomped his foot again. "Take me to ice-cream, Kirihara-kun!"

It really was no fair. He heard people talking about how horribly Kirihara was treating his younger brother. He grabbed Dan's arm and dragged him out of the arcade, wondering if pushing the little demon in front of a subway would attract too much notice. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked as they rushed down the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind.

"I'm getting us away from the humans, moron," Dan huffed, having to nearly run to keep up with Kirihara's pace. "And you're still an idiot."

This whole encounter was out of whack. An important question suddenly occurred to Kirihara. "Just why are you trying to help me, anyway?" No demon ever did anything without a personal gain.

Dan smirked, "If Fuji-kun kills you then my position is secure?"

Kirihara stopped, crossing his arms over his chest belligerently. "He's not going to kill me." Red flashed in his eyes. "I'm going to kill him first."

A finger stabbed itself between Kirihara's eyes, "You know who else had red eyes, Kirihara-kun?"

No one really sprung to mind, except for the demon who served as his sometimes-assistant. "Kabaji?"

Dan was tempted to kick Kirihara in the shin, "Were you born stupid or did you have to work to get that way?"

"You asked, I answered."

"Sah, never mind. You're too young to get it anyway."

That was really driving Kirihara nuts. Why was everyone obsessed with his age? "I'm not a child!"

"You're five hundred years old! Of course you're a child!"

"I'm 1,000, thank you!"

"That's a drop in the celestial bucket!"

"So? Youth breeds creativity!"

"And stupidity!"

"I am not stupid! When's the last time you damned someone personally?" Kirihara retorted.

"Akutsu Jin, angel!"

"You damn him every century! And he's currently in heaven, if you haven't notice! You're hardly efficient."

"Do you even know what Akutsu _does_?!"

"Nope." Their argument was again attracting onlookers. He grabbed Dan's hand and began to drag him along. "I don't care, either."

"That's why you'll never be great, Kirihara-kun."

"Like you know anything. Yukimura's not the only one whose stuck in a rut."

"So I'm old," Dan shrugged, "But I mean it ... how can you be the Lord of Hell if you don't know everything? Knowledge is power."

Kirihara slowed down just a bit. "I'm willing to learn." He even tolerated Sengoku as a mentor, after all.

"But you have the problem of Yukimura-kun _now_ ... you don't have time to learn. That's why I'm telling you to be careful." Dan decided that being straightforward might actually manage to beat something into Kirihara's slow brain.

Kirihara smirked. "It'll take more than an archangel with a weird attachment to Sengoku to get rid of me. Besides, it's a moot argument. Fuji's not going to kill me."

"You're sleeping with Sengoku-san, aren't you?"

"So? It's all part of the plan."

"What plan?"

"First I get him to love me. Then... I slit his throat." A slightly dreamy smile splayed itself across Kirihara's expression. "There's nothing sweeter than betraying those who love you."

For a brief moment Dan's expression froze before he smiled brightly, "I was mistaken, Kirihara-kun! You don't have to worry about Fuji-kun or Yukimura-kun! You have bigger problems!"

"Like what?" Kirihara asked indulgently. It was so hard not to treat Dan like a child.

"Sengoku-san," was Dan's easy reply. He gave Kirihara this a look like he felt sorry for him.

Kirihara sniffed. "Hardly. He won't win."

"That's what Satan-kun thought too ... and we all know what happened to him."

* * *

Atobe's little corner of heaven was much like anyone would have expected.

Whenever Yukimura visited, he was always slightly impressed and amused by the surroundings his coworker lived in. The place was so opulent that Yukimura found it impossible to relax.

The long-suffering Jackal, an angel whom was Atobe's liegeman, opened the door after Yukimura rang it.

"Am I expected?" he asked.

"Just go right up to Atobe's study," Jackal said

Yukimura offered a slight smile of gratitude as Jackal shut the door. He had always been fond of the dark-skinned angel. "Thanks," he replied, taking a moment to study his surroundings.

Atobe used white and silver as his main decorating themes, with white marble stairs ascending into a huge mansion. The mansion was at least 100 rooms, but it was the foyer that always made Yukimura laugh inside. The dozens of statues of Atobe in all his angelic glory (and wearing nothing else), spoke of a narcissism which was impressive, to say the least. Atobe claimed he was a fan of the majesty of God's creative abilities, but Yukimura was off the private opinion Atobe was a fan of himself. He never mentioned it, since Atobe sometimes went dangerously close to becoming polytheistic with his self-worship.

With a shake of his head, Yukimura proceeded down the vaguely familiar halls. Atobe was always changing his surroundings, going from Asian to Western styles, and then off into the obscure. Yukimura had been fond of the place about 300 years ago, when the sparse beauty of Japanese architecture had reigned. Nowadays, the avant-guard sharpness spoke of American styles.

Atobe's study was carefully placed toward the back of the house, so everyone had to witness the glory of his taste before finally speaking to his magnificent self. The door to the office was currently metallic, and knocking on it stung Yukimura's knuckles.

"Come in," Atobe said, his rich voice somewhat muffled.

Yukimura was on the verge of a fit of laughter as he entered the room. This room was stylish in black and gray, which perfectly set off Atobe's complexion. Tezuka, who was sitting rather stiffly on a couch, was not so flattered. His warm coloring made him look a bit yellow.

"Hello," Yukimura said. "Thanks for coming."

Atobe rose from behind his glass and silver desk, a munificent smile on his face. "It's not a problem to offer you hospitality, in spite of the fact we're already short-handed with Sengoku and Tezuka both on earth and Yanagi on a research binge. Never mind that we've been covering for your illness, as well..."

Yukimura ignored the politely worded complaint, turning to Tezuka. "I know you were busy on earth, but something has come up."

Tezuka merely raised an eyebrow, wondering what could possibly be so important that he had to suffer through the opulence that is Atobe's office. Because it was suffering. A great suffering. He thought his eyes might be burning from having to see statues of Atobe naked.

"Oh?" Atobe raised his eyebrow in eloquent fashion.

"Have either of you been paying attention to Sengoku?"

Tezuka forcibly jerked his attention away from the horrifying imagery dancing through his brain. Sengoku? What about -- "Oh."

"Oh? What is our illustrious colleague up to _now?_" Atobe asked with irritation. "I haven't talked to him since I told him to check his messages - which he hasn't been doing. That secretary of his-"

"-is very well qualified," Yukimura said smoothly. "He's gotten involved with a demon, and..." Yukimura wondered if there was a delicate way to put it. "He's dangerously close to Falling."

"Kirihara?" was all Tezuka was curious about. The possibility of Sengoku Falling was something that needed a little time to work through his head.

"You know him, then. I haven't had the pleasure... technically speaking," Yukimura said. "Yes, he's sleeping with Kirihara."

"Is he an idiot?" Atobe asked with irritation. "There's no way that a demon will ever love someone openly, and without love, he's committing a rather large sin."

"Sengoku always thinks things through," Yukimura said, "but he's never going to make rational choices about Kirihara. Sengoku still feels guilty about Satan."

"I would not call it guilt exactly," Tezuka murmured, adjusting his glasses.

"Is this Kirihara the demon the one who we were talking about a couple of centuries ago?" Atobe asked.

"Yes, he's Satan reborn," Yukimura said. "I never warned Sengoku about him because I knew this would happen. And maybe I should have said regret instead of guilt, but that makes no difference. Sengoku getting dragged down to Hell would make a divine war unavoidable."

It was certainly a possibility. That kind of power shift would invariably cause instability. "And what do you suggest we do about it?"

"We remove Kirihara. It'll take another couple of millennia for him to be reborn, and by then Sengoku should have more distance from the situation." Yukimura hesitated. "Unless you can think of something better? I really don't want to kill him - it will create a vicious cycle." He coughed lightly, his face pale. "And taking him out the first time nearly killed me, and I don't want to sacrifice anyone."

There was a long moment of silence as Tezuka stared at some point in the distance, mulling the idea over. Elimination was certainly a possibility. "What about causing Kirihara to Rise?"

_"Kirihara_ Of all people, you expect Kirihara to rise?" Atobe asked in disbelief.

"It would solve the problem permanently, would it not?" Tezuka paused, "And have the added benefit of keeping Sengoku busy and out of our way."

"There is some merit to the idea," Yukimura said. "Though unlike you, I don't see Sengoku as a problem."

"I do," Atobe said. "But how are you going to get Kirihara to rise? If he's anything like Satan was, he's a fruitcake."

"We can tell him repent or die," Yukimura said. "State the facts, and let Kirihara come to a logical conclusion.

Atobe sniffed. "I highly doubt he will. We've tried it on humans for centuries."

Tezuka finds himself in the unfortunate situation of agreeing with Atobe. "I doubt that approach would work."

"Or... we could thump it into his head," Yukimura said reluctantly. "There's a few angels with avenging positions Kirihara might enjoy... if we can make him a job offer he likes, that might work."

"Sanada might appreciate the assistance."

The ball was in Yukimura's court, and his expression acquired a slightly pinched look. "Sanada would be a good mentor," Yukimura agreed, but he sounded less than enthusiastic.

Atobe smiled predatorily to Yukimura. "He'll only go if you tell him to."

Yukimura's shoulders were tense as he considered the possibilities. If Sanada became Kirihara's mentor, that would neatly solve everything - but Yukimura would have less of Sanada's time. He didn't consider himself a selfish creature, and if it was for the greater good... "Let's talk to him," he suggested, sending out a mental invite to his right hand man.

There was a long moment in which Tezuka studied the furnishings, idly wondering why Yukimura, who professed to be sweetness and light had been set on simply eliminating Kirihara. Of course, it wasn't of great interest /now/, but it was something to fill the time while he waited for poor Sanada to navigate the horror-show that was Atobe's entry way.

Sanada pushed the door open and glowered in Atobe's direction, tapping his side absently and wishing the sword of the spirit was there. So he could stab something repeatedly. Like possibly his own eyes. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"You could knock," Atobe said. He and Sanada had never gotten along well. Sanada was just one step away from being an archangel, and Atobe didn't like rivals.

"Now, Atobe-san, we summoned him so it was obvious he was expected," Yukimura said, a slight smile on his lips. "Genichirou, thanks for coming."

Sanada just grunted in reply and slid to the side as if thinking of joining Tezuka on the couch. Since Tezuka at least could appreciate the appalling lack of taste that surrounded them.

Yukimura understood the grunt. "Sanada, I was wondering if you would be able to go down to earth with me."

The other three angels went rigid. Yukimura hadn't been down to earth in decades.

"Yanagi told you you couldn't go down to earth yet," Sanada replied, giving Yukimura a narrow look. Tezuka inclined his head in agreement.

"There's something I need to do," Yukimura said. "I'd appreciate your company."

"Seiichi ... "

Tezuka smoothly interrupted him, "It would hardly be wise to stress yourself over this, Yukimura."

"The possible end of the world? And I might be able to stop to it, by talking to a demon? I think-"

"I'll go, instead," Atobe inserted. He brushed his bangs with a graceful hand. It was rare that he offered to do anything for anyone else, but he liked Yukimura.

Sanada twitched at the very thought of having to accompany Atobe to earth, "I doubt it's necessary that either of you go."

"But-" Yukimura bit his lip. "The devil I need to talk to is not a pleasant creature."

"No devil is," Atobe agreed. "Are you sure Sanada can handle it by himself?"

Tezuka was tempted to roll his eyes at Yukimura's dramatics. It was hardly going to mean the end of the world and of course devils were unpleasant.

"Better than letting _you_ handle it," Sanada replied.

"Are you implying I'm incompetent?" Atobe asked, clenching his fists.

"Merely incapable."

Atobe twitched, but Yukimura interrupted the impending blow up. "Well, maybe Genichirou can do this on his own..."

Now it was Tezuka's turn to make comments, "Sanada is hardly the subtle type. Unless you planned for him to beat Kirihara into submission and drag him up here."

"Kirihara?" was Sanada distracted question, caught between glowering at Atobe and focusing on Yukimura

"Yes, Kirihara Akaya," Yukimura answered.

Sanada frowned thoughtfully, "Why?"

"It's classified," Yukimura said hesitantly. "I can't let anyone who isn't directly involved in the mission to know."

Atobe, still fuming about Sanada's disrespectful attitude, nearly choked as he saw exactly what was happening. Yukimura was such a bastard.

Ever get that feeling that something is closing in on you? Sanada had that feeling often with Yukimura. His eyes narrowed, "Fine. I'll do it." It was just easier to give in and find out than beat around the bush. Occasionally, the thought of reassignment was very appealing ... if some of the alternatives weren't _worse_.

Yukimura beamed at him with a smile nearly as brilliant as one of Ohtori's. "Thank you!" he said... and then preceded to tell Sanada exactly what he would be doing.

Sanada sighed. It was going to be a long couple hundred years. If Yukimura's plan worked, that is. 


	12. Devil With a Blue Dress On

** Paved with Good Intentions**

by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 12 Summary: _In which the plot actually advances._

* * *

__

Part Twelve: Devil with a Blue Dress On

Math class had a way of making Yuuta's head spin. He had never been particularly good with numbers, and memorizing formulas was a weakness of his. He'd always been more of an intuitive learner.

This week he was faring even worse than usual. His attention was fractured, and though part of him dreaded the class, another part was gloatingly supplying all the answers. It was just too hard to focus on what those answers were.

It was with great relief that he fled the room after the day's lesson, leaving Mizuki behind as the purple-clothed boy began to discuss something or other with Shinji, who had made one of his rare appearances in class.

The sense that something is off in the world was a talent Sengoku happened to have. He had watched Yuuta throughout math class with a vaguely curious look, watching the boy fidget and squirm as if plagued by ants. When Yuuta sped from the class like the devil was at his heels, Sengoku discreetly followed. The moment Yuuta slowed down, Sengoku pounced, throwing an arm around Yuuta's shoulders. "Oi, Yuuta-kun!"

Yuuta swung a hand around, ready to smack the person who was invading his personal space. It was an automatic reaction he hadn't been prone to a week ago.

Sengoku neatly caught his wrist. "Something wrong?"

The perpetual headache Yuuta has been subjected to since meeting Jiroh inched up several notches. A part of him recognized Sengoku as a fellow classmate - but that little voice was insisting Sengoku was much, much more, though it wasn't too forthcoming on what _that_ meant.

The arm on Yuuta's shoulder lifted and cool fingers slid across his forehead instead. "Head hurting?"

"Just a bit. Can you please - not do that?" Yuuta asked politely. "I'm going to go lie down..." He shifted back, trying to keep from smacking Sengoku's fingers as his instincts were demanding.

Sengoku let go, bouncing forward to smile at him. "Neh, don't be afraid of what you remember."

"What... are you talking about?"

"The things you've forgotten," Sengoku put a finger to his lips, as if indicating that silence is best.

Yuuta wondered exactly who had determined that turning his world upside down was a fun thing to do. "I haven't..." he started to protest, but took a deep breathe instead. "What did I forget?" he asked.

Sengoku rubbed the back of his head. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Yuuta was about ready to grab Sengoku by the throat and shake him till his eyes rolled out of their sockets.

Doing this twice in one week was going to get him smart alecky comments from God, Sengoku could tell right now. Grabbing Yuuta's hand, he dragged him into an empty classroom and ripped them both through the ephemeral into the abandoned part of the library he had used with Kirihara before.

Yuuta blinked as his surroundings whirled in a brilliant wave of color, and gasped as he realized that Sengoku had just performed miraculous teleportation. The fragile hopes he held that everything could be explained logically evaporated. "Oh... my... God...." he whispered.

Laughter, "That's a pretty close guess, Yuuta-kun!"

The information overload which threatened nearly made Yuuta scream. A mortal's brain wasn't designed to store millennia of information, and the download Yuuta's poor mind was about to make had the potential to kill him.

Sengoku slapped his hands to the sides of Yuuta's head, creating a loop through which he promptly sent power. A crackle of energy that gave the mortal body the possibility of expanding the metaphysical part of itself enough to store the download that was forthcoming.

It would only be much later that Yuuta realized Sengoku had saved his life.

"Sorry, Yuuta-kun," Sengoku murmured as the crackle in the air made their hair stand on end.

Yuuta blinked slowly as his mind began to rearranged itself. The information started to fall into place, but it would take a while to sort through. One thing, though, stuck out in his mind - _he wasn't human. _

Sengoku let go and snapped his fingers to remove the charge from the air. "I couldn't let you stay forgotten considering how much is happening around you."

Yuuta stared at Sengoku, finally placing him. "How's heaven treating you, Sen-san?"

Sengoku waggled a hand. "It's damn boring but Atobe's fun to harass."

"Wasn't he always?" Yuuta said. He leaned back against the table as more things slid into place. He had been... a demon. He had been one of the most powerful Lords of Hell, until he had plotted to kill Satan... along with the angel across from him. Suddenly he realized exactly who was in his math class. "Shit," he swore. "We failed, didn't we?"

"No, you succeeded, but some things get reborn with both power and soul intact."

"And reborn... and reborn...." Yuuta tried to remember dying the first time, but drew a blank. He remembered a chain of other lives as a human, most of which ended brutally. "Is he human? Does he know what he is?"

"He's demon and he has no clue. Not exactly the smartest lump on the log, that one."

Yuuta was tempted to throw something. It wasn't _fair_ that Satan had been reborn as a demon. "Is he still crazy?" Yuuta asked after forcing himself to calm down.

"Not yet. He's more like he was before he Fell."

"That... was a while ago," Yuuta said. He remembered the earnest, determined angel with something resembling sadness. If only Satan had stayed that way... Then what Sengoku said registered. "Yet?"

"He's like you, neh? Part of the past always remains in rebirth."

Yuuta hated being compared to the devil who had killed him. "How come I wasn't reborn as a devil? I've never heard of one of us coming back as a human."

"Betrayal doesn't come cheap, Yuuta-kun. Satan ripped out your power when he killed you. Without the power, you're just a immortal soul. The only way you can return is in a human shell." 

"And I can't get to heaven or hell as an immortal soul..." Yuuta said. He had to admire the sheer genius Satan had displayed with this vengeance.

Sengoku nodded, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling in thought.

"Did you revive me to help you kill him again?" Yuuta asked. Sengoku never acted without a purpose.

"Kill him? How could you help me kill him in a mortal body?"

"I've seen aniki around," Yuuta said dryly. "He'll help, if I ask him."

* * *

Kirihara wasn't in math class. He also wasn't in the cafeteria making people slip on milk. He wasn't outside making women's skirts blow upwards (okay, so that was more Sengoku's random pastime ... but Kirihara _could_ have been doing it!). He wasn't stealing candy from children in the park. He wasn't in Las Vegas gambling underage (though Sengoku played a few slots for The Big Guy in The Sky). He wasn't even poisoning small dogs on chocolate.

Which meant he was hiding in his room. At about the time Sengoku actually bothered to turn on the angelic Find-It Function and search out the devil the easy way, he had definitely been doing enough shadow surfing to qualify for frequent teleportation miles and a upgrade to Gold Business Class. God was definitely going to have commentary for him when he showed himself in heaven.

But that was a minor consideration now that Sengoku had finally cornered his prey in the prey's lair of choice. Sneaking around in the shadow's like flattened paper doll allowed him to line himself up with Kirihara's back and then pounce, flying out of nowhere to latch onto the demon (not to mention grope him but good).

Feeling the unexpected hands wander over his groin, Kirihara leveled an upper-cut worthy of a black belt, only to be parried with a block containing the skill of a master. Sengoku's hands clung loosely around his waist and Kirihara, about two inches shorter, could feel the warm breath on his ear.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He had been in the middle of moving to his computer to upload a virus, courtesy of Muromachi, onto the intranet to make life interesting for his dormmates. Now this idiot was here... the last being he wanted to see. Not that he was avoiding him - he was taking time to plot how to kill Fuji, and such things had to be done carefully. Really. That was why he hadn't left since talking to Dan a couple of days ago.

"Molesting you?" Sengoku figured that was obvious.

"Not very angelic of you," Kirihara said. Damn, Sengoku sure knew where to put his hands. "Are you sure you're one of the good guys?"

"Yes, quite sure." Sengoku grinned and purred into Kirihara's ear, "Want to see the badges of heavenly office?"

"I think I've seen everything you have to offer," Kirihara said in a tired voice. "Is there something specific you want aside from wallowing in sin? Which, I feel compelled to remind you for some reason I can't fathom, you shouldn't be able to do without singeing the wings off your back, even though you do?"

"Well, if you _thought_ about it instead of just talking about it, I'm sure the answer to your question would come to you. Supposedly, you're intelligent."

Kirihara thought on it, and drew a complete and utter blank. "Um...." he said, stalling.

Sengoku whistled cheerfully while awaiting Kirihara's amazing revelation, and entertained himself in the meantime by undoing the fastenings to the demon's clothes. Kirihara slapped Sengoku's hands idly, more to sting than out of any denial of access. That was hardly a deterrent, for once past the fastenings, Sengoku was more than happy to explore the skin beneath them.

Kirihara tried not to groan as Sengoku leaned forward and applied his tongue. His fingers went up Sengoku's collar, gripping it tightly... before red eyes flashed and the sound of ripping fabric filled the room.

Needless to say, it was some time before Sengoku bothered to repeat his statement, "Well?" while licking whatever skin was in reach of his now incredibly lazy self.

It took a moment for the question to penetrate Kirihara's pleasure-laden mind the way Sengoku had been penetrate his body a few moments before. "Well what?"

"Thought about it enough?" was the pleased hum that buzzed near Kirihara's ear before it got nibbled on.

"I haven't thought about anything," Kirihara said, biting the finger which strayed too close to his mouth. "What do you want?"

Well, there was always the obvious answer, "More sex?" and then something more complex so Kirihara wouldn't think Sengoku was slacking off around him, "and your lesson for today, grasshopper."

"Lesson?" Kirihara hadn't quite forgotten about Sengoku's promise to serve as his teacher, but it had seemed to fall by the wayside. Probably sometime when Kirihara had been demonstrating how he liked to use his teeth on... well, then. "I doubt there's much you can teach me about sex." Very true. Kirihara had slept with Kikumaru a few times.

"I wasn't talking about sex. Tsk, tsk, such a dirty mind," though Sengoku felt somewhat compelled to prove that there were some sexual tricks that he could definitely impart to the demon.

Kirihara felt his interest perk up. "Oh? Guide me, then, sensei," he purred, rubbing a hand over Sengoku's stomach the way he would a cat.

"Mmmmmmm, no requests then? You'll leave yourself solely in my capable hands?" Sengoku stretched, eyes half closing in pleasure.

"Tell me how to kill Fuji," Kirihara demanded, knowing he probably wasn't going to get an answer.

"How do you kill anyone? Fundamentally damage them with the sword of the spirit." Sengoku idly wondered what they taught demons these days if they didn't know that.

"Sengoku...." Kirihara growled. "That's the theoretical. What I want to know is how the hell am I supposed to kill Fuji before he kills me?"

"Now, see, that's asking for trouble. People have tried that 'kill the devil' shtick before and it never turns out well."

"It worked for Tezuka and Yukimura. Is it some kind of angel thing?"

"Tezuka had something of unusual circumstances that involved divine intervention and previous archangelic intervention. Probably a situation you wouldn't be able to duplicate. Satan's destruction was a bit more complicated than just hack and slash."

"Oh?"

"There was a bit of the conspiracy involved there."

"I never heard anything about that," Kirihara said slowly. He would have expected to, since good gossip never kept secret in hell.

"Not to mention the fact that Satan never looked before he leaped and was kinda blinded by rage, which made the entire thing easy to pull off."

"He must have been an idiot."

"Yes, you remind me of him, actually. Very not quick on the uptake."

Kirihara's hand was around Sengoku's throat in an instant, the suddenly sprouted claws drawing blood. "Remember that I am quite willing to put you in a world of hurt?" he hissed.

"Well, then you wouldn't learn very much, would you?"

Kirihara forced himself to take a deep breath. Killing the idiot would serve no purpose. The hand retracted, but not before he trailed the claws down Sengoku's chest, leaving track marks that healed almost as quickly as they were made. "Fine. Okay, so there was a conspiracy. I assume Yukimura was in on it... who else? Tezuka? Sanada?" He had a hard time picturing the two stick-up-the-ass angels getting involved in conspiracies, but they were the closest to Yukimura.

"Fuji, Yuuta, and myself."

Somehow it wasn't shocking that Sengoku had collaborated with Fuji. Kirihara felt himself tense up as a million possibilities, none of them pleasant, raced through his mind. "You're not working with him now, are you?" He was so dead if that was the case. "And who's Yuuta?" He didn't remember a demon named Yuuta. It was possible it could be a demon who died a while ago... demons tended to forget those dead and gone awfully quickly.

"I would hardly work with the Lord of Hell unless extenuating circumstances were present, neh? That would be very ... unangelic," Sengoku looked amused, considering he was in bed doing very unangelic things and speaking of those unangelic things, Kirihara's collar needed a new hickey, which Sengoku decided to provide immediately. "Yuuta was Fuji's brother. He's dead now, though."  
Kirihara pushed Sengoku away, inflicting a bit of damage. "Oh? What happened?" He had a hard time picturing Fuji with a brother.

Sengoku produced a set of reasonable looking claws and took a swipe at Kirihara, hoping to engage him in a minor duel. "Satan killed him before he was finished off by Yukimura."

Kirihara was more than willing to invoke pain. "Sheesh, sounds messy."

"Wars usually are."

Kirihara had never been particularly interested in history, but one thing nagged him. "I have just one question."

"Go for it."

"Why was Satan so bad? If everyone hated him, wasn't he doing a good job?"

"It wasn't that he wasn't doing a good job ... it was that he was doing too good of a job. He nearly succeeded in destroying the world, yanno." Sengoku paused in the battle, rolling back to sharpen his claws against each other. "For God saw that the hearts of men were bent on evil all the time and he was grieved in his heart and regretted that he had made them. Then God desired to destroy the world that he had created." It was _not_ a direct biblical quotation, though it sounded close enough.

"Then why do people call him nuts, if he was doing his job?"

"Hell doesn't win if _God_ destroys the world."

"Who cares who destroys the world as long as it happens?"

"It's ... complicated. It has to do with balance and the timing of the end of time." Sengoku shook his head, as if these complex things he spoke of were _too_ complex for Kirihara to get. "Basically? You can hardly expect heaven to stand idly by while Satan was winning, and you can hardly expect certain ambitious demons from not seeking to profit from heaven's plans "

"It's hypocritical."

"Winners write history, remember? Besides, it's not like Satan had pure motives of destroying man and then destroying God. He was in it for petty vengeance."

"Huh?"

"You don't know?! Geez, this gossip must be so old that it's growing mold. Heaven stole something from Satan."

"Oh? What?"

"Oh? I thought he was the one who stole those books..."

"The raid on the library? That was just Satan's excuse for a war."

"What was the real reason?" Kirihara lost interest in Sengoku's claws for the moment.

"I already said it: Vengeance."

"For what?" Kirihara howled, annoyed at the circular path the conversation was taking.

Sengoku thumped him, "Think about it, moron! If you're a demon, living in hell, what is the only thing that heaven can steal from you?!"

"...if you're a demon, living in hell, the only thing you have of value is your existence," Kirihara replied, thumping Sengoku back.

Sengoku folded his hands in solemn prayer. "Forgive him, divine father, for he is an idiot."

"There's nothing to forgive!" Kirihara retorted, finally losing the fragile thread of patience and pushing Sengoku onto the floor.

* * *

Saeki Kojiroh had decided that he was In Love. Not love as in romance and flowers and sweeping off of the feet, because that just ended up in marriage, which was the kiss of death, but love as in 'oh my god, this woman knows what to do with her tongue and oh yes and she's willing to go at it with another chick while I watch so please god let me keep this one'. Saeki was not above asking the almighty for the things he was interested in keeping around. Who knew, the lord might be benevolent.

But this wanders away from the subject at hand. Saeki, who was In Love, also had a buxom Yumiko on his lap, with two hands where no hands should be, and a tongue down her very willing throat. Life, it was good.

It wasn't unusual for Yuuta to be missing at this time of day, since he did have some kind of literature class scheduled about now. So when the door opened, Yumiko removed her lips from Saeki's neck, turning her head to offer a welcoming smile.

"Yuuta-kun!" she exclaimed in delight. She was always overly delighted to see him, even in a half-clothed state.

Something was different about Yuuta today, a slough in his carriage that showed no hesitation at seeing his sister in a pre-coital state. Instead, a smirk quirked his lips. "Hello, aniki."

Saeki's brain was somewhere about the area of his pants, but even that didn't stop the 'aniki' from penetrating with all the due force that others things penetrate. "Aniki?"

Yumiko froze, the smile freezing on her lips. Then she shifted slightly, turning so she more fully faced her little brother. "Yuuta?" she said in a questioning voice.

Yuuta merely raised a casual hand, waiving. "I'm back."

It was impossible to describe the emotions that raced crossed Yumiko's face in that instant, but it ended in the most complete joy that Saeki had ever witnessed. Then a mischievous smile quirk her lips. "I guess the jig is up, then." She leaned back in one of those flexible moves that Saeki was so fond of and frenched Saeki... who suddenly found himself holding a very male body.

This took a long moment to work through Saeki's mind. The pure impossibility of the situation had a tendency to do that to mortal thought. There was a very long pause ... which was followed by the once-Yumiko getting shoved off of Saeki's lap as Saeki sputtered and rubbed his lips. "WHAT THE SHIT?!"

The half-dressed man, who somehow managed to look very fetching in the short blue dress Yumiko had been wearing, landed on his feet. He was very attractive, and there was something about him that definitely called Yumiko to mind as he placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head slightly to the right. "Really, Kojiroh-kun, that's no way to treat your significant other."

Saeki wasn't homophobic. Really... okay, maybe he was a little, which is why Yuuta found his reaction so fascinating. Yuuta had always thought of Saeki as the most ragingly hetero guy he'd ever known, and for him to find out he'd been sleeping with another man... well, the newly awoken devil in him couldn't help but delight.

Saeki's arms waved in the air, his fingers pointed, he turned in circles, he flailed in the manner of people who flail ... but not a word passed through his lips. He was past being able to speak with coherency, though he eventually managed to summon a voice, "How ... you ... what ... THE HELL. You can't change like that!"

"I think I just did," not-Yumiko said.

"You shouldn't be able to!"

"I do a lot of things I shouldn't. Specialize it, in fact."

"Ah, wait ... I know. This is a dream. A very strange, somewhat horrifying dream," Saeki nodded sagely to this, "And I'll wake up pretty soon ... yeah."

The man and Yuuta snickered. "Want me to slap you?" the man offered helpfully.

"No thank you, I'll do that myself," and Saeki did just that, smacking himself a good one on the cheek. Nothing happened. He slapped himself a couple more times. Nothing. "Okay, what the shit is going on?" Saeki could be reasonable ... really!

"Have you ever heard the saying... the devil wears many guises?" Yuuta asked, earning himself a smirk from the-man-who-had-been-Yumiko.

Saeki gave the once-Yumiko a stare. "That's craziness, man. There's no such thing."

The man sighed. "You know, everyone believes in me until they meet me. Maybe I need to wear horns." Horns and a tail sprouted quickly, and a hand-mirror appeared in his hand. He considered the look for a moment. "Too blatant." Just as suddenly as they had come, they were gone. The cat-like smile of amusement the man wore focused on Saeki.

Saeki's only mode of mental self-defense was to blow it off as some sort of hallucination that he would go along with, "Awww, man ... I am so doomed. I've been fucking the devil. Great. Just great." Talk about a one-way ticket to hell, no question. "And next you'll tell me that Mizuki is god and Sengoku is the archangel of light."

"Mizuki is an achiest, so he considers himself his own god," the man replied. "Though you did hit the Sengoku thing on the nose..." He glanced over at Yuuta. "How on earth did you end up with a psychic roommate?"

"It just happens that way. I tend to be a nexus of the strange and unusual."

"You are the strange and unusual."

_"Aniki!"_

The man laughed, before sliding back on the bed beside Saeki. "Maybe I should introduce myself again. I'm Fuji Syuusuke, Lord of Hell, Damner of Nations, Tempter of Virgins, the Great Nemesis... and a ton of other titles." He patted Saeki on the shoulder. "Don't worry about the hell thing, you were already on the way there. I'm actually on vacation right now."

Saeki's brain had a moment of fritzing at the thought of Sengoku as archangel. Well, hell, if _he_ managed to be an archangel, there was still hope for heaven! He could make it! "This is too weird for me."

Yuuta's grin could only be described as evil. "Just think of the possibilities."

"Stop that, are you trying to make me have a brain explosion?" Yuuta looked very creepy smiling like that ...

"I don't want to kill you," Yuuta said crossly. "You're my friend." He slid on the bed next to Fuji... causing Saeki to goggle as Fuji began stroking his leg in a fashion which couldn't be described as fraternal. 

"If I was gay, I'd be jealous of the attention you keep getting from other guys, Yuuta," he sighed, since he couldn't throw nature's waste hazard the sock at the lord of hell. "Why do I have to know? Can't I remain in ignorance?"

"Do you want us to wipe your memory?" Fuji asked curiously. "I can do that... though even I have problems sometime. You might develop an unhealthy fixation for something like... oh, say, watermelons."

"Remember the guy who started collecting used toothpicks?"

"How could I forget?"

"You two are just disgusting."

"I'm going to be offering you the chance of a lifetime, Saeki," Fuji said pleasantly. "Feel like having some fun?"

Saeki gives him a wary look. Who hasn't heard stories about the booby traps layered around anything the devil offers? "What kind of chance and what kind of fun?"

"I'm going to give you a jump-start on the hellish ladder. You can completely skip the damned soul phase and go directly to being a demon," Fuji said. "As for fun... well, how do you feel about helping an angel and demon fall in love?"

Actually, if you have to go to the _other_ place, being a demon would be a positive thing. Saeki was definitely thinking it was a plus, but he was curious. "Angel and demon?"

"Sengoku and Kirihara - who, by the way, framed you for that whole fire starting thing," Fuji said.

Saeki's eyebrows did a little dance as he tried to mentally come to grips with the fact that he had been surrounded by no less than three divine beings ... and had been clueless. "Uh ... sure."

Fuji offered him a brilliant smile, before leaning over and kissing him. He kissed exactly the way he had while disguised as Yumiko. "You're so sweet!" he cooed.

"Ugh ... don't _do_ that when you're a boy ... demon ... thing ... "

* * *

It was one of those unseasonably cold days, reminding students that winter wasn't that far off. Most had dragged out their winter jackets and were sweating from being overdressed, but those who hadn't shivered in their too-light fall gear. It was a lose-lose situation, exactly what Kirihara liked.

He had left his room not long after his whole discussion with Sengoku. Most of what had been said went in one ear and out the other, but the warning had been clear - Sengoku was quite willing to kill him if he put a foot out of line. It only made it more urgent to figure out how to kill Sengoku first... or Fuji. He wasn't sure which one he needed to knock off first.

Subtly warming the air around him with his powers, Kirihara sat outside the chemistry building, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. He was planning on inciting a chemistry student into throwing hydrochloric acid at a rival tomorrow, and he always believed in scouting things out first when possible. As soon as he finished his drink, he'd get to work.

The sign of demonic mischief was Sanada's cue to appear. He was a no sparkles (not even upon pain of possible torment or death or hellish damnation would he ever put a sparkle, a twinkle, or a spot of choir-itic music upon his appearance) kind of teleporter and he appeared before Kirihara with the barest displacement of air, which only mildly stirred the grass around his feet. Sanada was the angel of justice, and as such, his sword of the spirit was strapped obviously to his side, disguised as a katana ... which would one day get him ticketed by over industrious cops.

He reached up to adjust his cap to block the bright rays of the sun and asked in his most business-like tone, "Kirihara." It was a statement, not a question. Really, Sanada got along very well with Tezuka ... considering they both had the personalities of blocks of wood, and not very lively blocks of wood either.

Kirihara and Sanada had a history, one which had resulted in mutual respect (or the closest angels and demons had to respect for each other) and exasperation. Kirihara had occasionally managed to twist Sanada's justice to his own ends (the witch hunts were his pride and joy), but Sanada usually managed to bring things back under control eventually though Kirihara usually made a mess of things before that happened.

There could only be one reason Sanada was here, Kirihara thought. "If it's about that innocent man who I had executed on trumped up charges last month, you can just deal with it. It was your legal system that did it."

"He's with us," Sanada reflected briefly on the matter of the trial in question and decided that if he was going to thump Kirihara for it, it would have to be later. "That's not why I'm here." That was another thing Sanada shared with Tezuka, the inability to make small talk.

"Oh?" Kirihara checked his internal time sense and decided he had time to "play" with Sanada. "Then why?" He really couldn't think what Sanada wanted with him, since Sanada had no life outside of his job. Kirihara doubted the rumors that Sanada was in love with Yukimura, since Kirihara rather thought Sanada was the prototype of an angelic robot. A defective one, at that.

"Heaven wants to offer you a job in my department," Sanada looked both determined and mildly put-upon. Which was only to be expected since he thought Kirihara was an out of control upstart of a demon with only the barest connection to the word stable.

"Huh?" Kirihara couldn't have heard that right.

Sanada _could_ be patient. "I said: Heaven wants to offer you a job in my department."

Kirihara started to laugh. He hadn't known Sanada had a sense of humor.

"... just what is so funny?" Sanada didn't have a sense of humor ... not really.

"You... offering me... a job!" The cup of cocoa fell from Kirihara's hands to the ground, splash both of their shoes. If anything, that made Kirihara laugh harder.

Sanada felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose ... or to just swat the irritating little demon upside the head. "I_am _offering you a job."

Kirihara covered his mouth as he managed to tone his gaiety down to snickering. "Did your superiors get a little too much of the divine presence or something? Really..."

"Is this the face of an angel who is joking?"

"You don't know how to joke."

"Exactly."

Kirihara smoothed his face as he considered exactly what was going on. He'd never heard of heaven making such a direct offer to a demon. Usually they sent an angel to work on redeeming a demon... "You want me to Rise," he whispered. Suddenly it wasn't so funny.

"Yes."

Pieces fell into place, with Kirihara's intuitive mind grasping the larger picture quickly. "You're worried I'm going to drag Sengoku down," he said gleefully.

Sanada paused, considering the matter. Even though that was the official reason he had been given for inviting Kirihara, he had to admit that he personally never really thought it likely that Sengoku would Fall. Not that the archangel didn't irritate him at every opportunity or that he didn't think they might be better off without him ... no ... it was just ... in Sanada's experience, the older the angel was the less likely they were to change. Not to mention Sengoku was an _archangel._ Had any of them _ever_ Fallen? Perhaps that was why Yukimura was worried ...

Sanada finally settled on a shrug. "Perhaps. Or they're hoping this will encourage you to make him Fall faster." He wouldn't put _that_ kind of sneakiness past Yukimura either.

Kirihara thought on that. It was a possibility... and the job offer would get him out of Fuji's range, who by all accounts, wanted him dead... but it was a job Kirihara would rather die than take. "It would mean I'd have to accept God," he said. His eyes flashed dangerously.

Sanada raised an eyebrow. "So? It's hardly an difficult condition."

"I don't need Him," Kirihara said. "I don't need anyone but myself."

"No one said you had to _need_ Him."

Kirihara snorted. "I embrace chaos. I don't see you being real eager for letting me randomly destroy things," he said.

"Considering you would be under my jurisdiction, you would still be allowed to destroy things, just not randomly." Sanada thought that the offer was actually pretty generous, all things considered.

Kirihara rolled his eyes. "That takes the fun out of it.... and can you actually see me obeying orders?"

"Things would be different once you Rise," was Sanada's implacable reply. "You would view things differently then."

"Then I wouldn't be me." Kirihara had never met a demon who had Risen - at least not one he'd known before - but the very idea gave him shudders. It sounded like a personality rewrite.

Sanada had to think a moment before considering another tactic. "Do Fallen change all that much?"

"I didn't know Yagyuu before he Fell," Kirihara said.

"Perhaps you could consult him."

"That would imply I'm interested. Take this message back to your superiors," Kirihara said, before proceeding to treat Sanada's ears to some of the most choice profanity that he'd strung together in a century. "Got it, or do I need to repeat myself so you can take notes?" he asked after finishing.

Sanada sighed. Somehow he had expected that kind of answer. Really, it was only angelic duty and Yukimura that had compelled Sanada to even waste his time on asking. He shrugged, "Very well," and vanished.

Interesting, Kirihara thought. Apparently he was doing a better job than he thought on Sengoku, if Heaven was concerned enough to throw him a job offer. It was just too bad for Heaven that he always finished what he started. Whistling to himself, he hustled himself into the chemistry building, preparing to scar an obnoxious would-be Nobel prize winner for life. 


	13. Sympathy for the Devil

** Paved with Good Intentions**  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Notes: Crack fic at its most devilish. Let's take the horrid cliche of making the boys angels and devils and pump it full of semi-plotful sugar. Stir well.  
Part 13 Summary: In which the plot keeps moving.

* * *

_  
Part Thirteen: Sympathy for the Devil_

It was the time of The Bouncing. A time of sadness and joy ... if either side really cared enough about a short term member of their side. Which they didn't. Not really, anyway. Akutsu Jin changed sides so much that he had two different divine addresses and his mail was forwarded to both since he would end up there within a decade at least. What most people didn't realize, though, was that it wasn't two addresses at all. It was just one address that happened to move with him and went by the name of Sengoku's office when it was being conspicuous and the name of That Pizza Death Hole in casual conversation. The scale beamed with glee during this changing of the Bounce. The clock meanwhile, was pissed the fark off. Bouncing? It held truck with no bouncing.

Yukimura was one of the few who really kept track of the office, since it was the best way to keep an eye on Sengoku. Eventually Sengoku would return - especially during The Bouncing. Sengoku always made sure the transition went smoothly, due mainly to an incident in 1687 involving a chandelier not being hung by strong enough chains. Akutsu had been knocked out when it came off the ceiling, and pinned there for three days.

That had been the incident that impelled the creation of then unknown fluorescent lighting, also known as mysterious ceiling illumination. It had come in quite useful as cheap backlighting for angelic presentation to the foolish mortal masses. Jin, himself, however, barely glanced up when Yukimura arrived, choosing merely to roll his cigar to the other side of the mouth. Cigars were the smoking vehicle of choice while moving through Purgatory.

"Hello, Akutsu-kun," Yukimura said pleasantly. He was used to the office's peculiarities, some of which became even more odd as it slid Down There. The toy snake he'd previously played with had grown fangs which dripped a rather interesting yellow venom and was hissing at him. Other small, demented changes, like the soft background disco music, were enough to make Yukimura feel less than comfortable. Disco, it should be noted, had been created by Niou when the devil had been feeling particularly inspired.

Jin, personally, was waiting for the snake to start growing a couple heads and speak in a human tongue. Then it could make itself useful and answer messages. Jin let the snake hiss at Yukimura instead of bothering to answer.

About the point that the snake might have thrown itself at Yukimura's throat if Jin had wished hard enough, the door bounced open and Sengoku bounced in. "What is with the disco music? I thought I specifically requested torture by Care Bears."

"Hello, Sen." Yukimura's smile was perfectly welcoming.

"Yukimura. Been talking with Fuji?" Could there be any other reason? Sengoku slid behind the desk to poke at the scale with singular focus.

"Why would I be talking to Fuji?" Yukimura asked, neatly sidestepping the need for truth. He went to take a seat next to the desk, ignoring the sounds of a skirmish coming from behind him.

"For all the usual reasons, no doubt."

"You're paranoid, as usual."

"With good reason, ne?"

"Perhaps." Yukimura stared at the clock, which had inched two minutes closer to doomsday since his last visit. "But you give people cause to worry."

"You act as though I won't do what's necessary to fulfill my duty." Sengoku fished a ruler idly out from under a bookcase so he could measure the bottom of the scale.

"I'm just concerned that you'll decide that your duty has changed."

"Why? Do you think I would forsake the Father?"

"Show me your wings," Yukimura said softly, again avoiding the question.

"You want me to manifest?"

"Yes." Yukimura's eyes met Sengoku's gaze neutrally.

Sengoku tapped Jin with the ruler. "Oi, I'm hungry. Go get some of the terrifying Purgatory grub."

Jin narrowed his eyes at the person taking liberties with his finely gelled hair. "What do I get out of it?"

"I'll stuff the clock in a closet." The closet banged its doors protest and Jin smirked at it.

"Sure thing, boss."

Sengoku waited patiently for Jin to get his feet of the desk, tuck his hands into his pockets, and swagger to the door, trailing smoke as he went. The moment the seat was free, Sengoku flopped down in it and stuck his own legs up on the desk. "You do realize that they never change, Seiichi, and they never will."

"You know that's not what I need to see. I need to see your power, and what its current shape is."

"Che. No faith at all."

"Just do it."

"And if I refuse?"

"That will be an answer in and of itself."

"It might be fun to be distrusted openly again."

"Is that your choice?" Yukimura wasn't in the mood to play Sengoku's games.

"You'll have to give me a better reason than the soothing of your petty suspicions if you want me to upset the balance of my plans."

"Sanada talked to Kirihara." That should be reason enough, Yukimura knew.

"And?" That was something of mild curiosity, there.

"We won't be able to work with him." It was a bit galling to admit that. "At least not right now."

"I suspected not." Sengoku snapped his fingers to form a flame and idly bounced it from one finger to the other.

The image of Sengoku playing with fire made Yukimura queasy. "Sen, you can't be doing this."

"Can't enjoy it while it lasts?" The flame caught itself on nothing and expanded, wreathing Sengoku's hand in flames and sliding tendrils up his arm.

"Sengoku, I will not allow you to Fall." It was out in the open, now.

The flames puffed out leaving only a slight smoke trail in its wake. "It isn't your decision to make, Yukimura."

"Sengoku... we've been friends for a while," Yukimura said. "It's my job as your friend to tell you when you're being an idiot. Right now, you're not CAPABLE of making sane decisions."

"You act as if enjoying his presence for this short while is actually going to matter when it comes down to ending this. Did it matter before? No. Will it matter in the future? No. I will do my job as I have always done my job, whether you like the job or not."

"I don't want to see you hurt," Yukimura said softly.

"No. You just don't want to see me Fall."

"That's part of it, but even if you manage not to Fall on your own, this will still wound you." Yukimura raised fingers to his heart, as though he could touch tangible emotions. "You're not just your duty - you're a creature who needs as well."

Sengoku shrugged. "It doesn't matter, faith is enough."

"Do you honestly think that is God's plan, to deny you of your sense of self and turn you into some kind of prayer-laden robot? Faith comes from the heart," Yukimura said. He gripped his chair as the office shook slightly, still not settled from the rather long fall from Heaven to Purgatory.

Sengoku stuck a foot out to stop the red phone from trying to take a suicide leap off the desk. He nudged it back into place before replying, "You really need to stop assuming things about me. You also need to make up your mind. On the one hand you're gung-ho about the death of Kirihara and then on the other hand you're whining about my goddamn feelings."

"It's a moral dilemma, Sengoku," Yukimura said. "I know what you feel for him." Yukimura's hand went to his chest again, as he stared upwards slightly. "I'm not sure what the solution is, but you are closing yourself off." The clock teetered precariously, and Yukimura managed to ignore the stack of pizza boxes which tipped over, narrowly missing being killed by the four that somehow flew OVER him despite the law of gravity.

"When have I not been closed off, eh?" Sengoku was beginning to wonder if Yukimura was a glutton for drama. The clock flashed Sengoku a ceramic bird. He stuck his tongue out at it. The bird flew across the room on it's twisty spring and clocked him in the forehead. "Ow!"

Yukimura sighed as the bird made its way back to its place of origin. "Sengoku, I know you think you're in control - but sometimes things don't work out the way we expect. Kirihara may be the reincarnation of Satan, but he's not Satan himself. He's different, this time."

Sengoku rubbed the point of impact while giving the clock the evil eye. "Yeah, he's twice as much of a moron."

"Perhaps." Yukimura smiled slightly. "But that's one of the things you love him for."

"Che, it just makes him more malleable to manipulation."

As he stared at Sengoku, Yukimura felt his heart twist. He could remember when they had both been younger, remember the fire and passion that had lit them with purpose. Now Sengoku was a world-weary cynic, and he himself manipulated his best friends. "I envy him," said Yukimura softly. "He's got another chance at a fresh start."

"As will you one day. Something to look forward to, I guess."

"Maybe - or I could be around to the very end," Yukimura said. He was tired of all this, but knew his time wasn't done yet. The room seemed to have settled for the moment, which meant it would be a good time to leave. Yukimura rose to his feet, walking around the desk to offer Sengoku a hug. "Sometimes I think we've both lived too long," he whispered into Sengoku's hair. "But we can't give up."

Sengoku reached up to tug on a coil of Yukimura's hair in return. "Hhmm, save the pep talks for those who need it, Seiichi, it's only been a little while since the beginning."

Yukimura's smile was melancholy as he pulled away. "I'll remember that if you remember that you're not omniscient."

"How could I forget it when you remind me of it every time I see you?"

Yukimura knew better than to retort. Instead, he picked the snake off of the desk, watching as the venom dripped - right before throwing it at Sengoku.

Thwock! Bounce! Hiss! The snake flailed on the desk and slithered under Sengoku's palm to hiss with wrath in Yukimura's direction. Clearly, it wanted vengeance for it's unfortunate flight. "Aww, look, you hurt its feelings. It'll never forgive you" Never mind the fact that he had two fang punctures on his cheek and was beginning to spurt blood in a truly comical manner.

"It'll forgive me when it comes back to heaven," Yukimura replied. "Heaven's about forgiveness." He smiled in challenge.

There was a long moment of silence as Sengoku rubbed a finger under the snake's chin while it hissed with pleasure and twitched it's coils. "Really? I would never have guessed .... did you ask God to forgive you for conspiring to murder your elders, then?"

"I don't know how much longer you'll be my senpai, Sengoku. It could be seen as a preemptive strike," Yukimura said, turning and taking the door out on that parting shot.

"Longer than you think," he murmured in reply, watching Yukimura's withdrawal, which was the cue for Jin's entrance.

Jin looked at the departing Yukimura's back, looked at the blood still spurting from Sengoku's cheek, looked at the blood pooling on the floor. "If I slip on that, I get to sue you for benefits." He walked straight for it.

"Which means you're going to slip on it."

"Damn straight, boss." Slip! The already bad Purgatory food went flying onto the floor, where the grime only increased it's edibility. "Argh, I've fallen and I can't reach my smokes."

"Such a sad, sad development. I guess this means I'll have to do battle with the clock in your stead." Sengoku shook his head sadly as he swung out of the chair and fished a seven foot spear out of a three inch drawer.

"Shit no, gimme a spear." A spear was provided from that same three inch drawer while the clock made a clanking noise of protest and sent a barrage of glass shards flying across the room.

"Oh, that's it, clock. You going down. Charge!"

"YARGGHGGGG!!!!"

* * *

In the past week, Oishi had learned something: the best cure for a hangover was drinking more. Angels had to drink a lot to be drunk, so he'd been drinking continuously to maintain that state.

He just didn't want to think about his actions. Or about Shinji. Or about Tezuka, who he hadn't seen in that week since he hadn't gone back home. Or about the way Eiji kept crawling all over him and how tempted he was to just give in.

Eiji , meanwhile, was in a state of near glee. Oishi was an official drunk! Abandoned by his oh-so-holy-stick-up-the-ass-protector! A failure at all he put his hand to! Truly, it was a day blessed by all the Big Bads in the best days of Badiness. He purred, he petted, he fondled Oishi in intimate places, he whispered sweet silvered nothings in his ear, and most of all ... he helped him drink that sake.

They sat in one of the grungiest pubs in the city, a place about five steps below the caliber of The Lounge. The pub was filled with smoke from illegal narcotics, but what Oishi learned to appreciate was the wait staff, which didn't see anything odd about how long they'd been there or the fact they'd already drank enough to kill most humans. He did think the bartender needed to learn to mix drinks better, though. The Red Headed Slut he'd had ordered had been light on Peach Schnapps, and after the incident with the Sex On The Beach, he'd decided to stick to sake.

"Mmmmm," grungy joints were just a devil's kind of dive, "Oishi-kun, you sure Tezuka wouldn't want to help you do horrible things to you-know-who."

Oishi's eyes teared up. "I'm doing it because I love him!" he announced, sniffling. He really didn't want to think too deeply on killing Fuji.

Eiji choked, "What?!"

Oishi nodded. "He's my bestest friend!"

"But you're supposed to be in lust with me!!"

"I love you, too!" Oishi proclaimed loudly. "That's my job - I love people!"

"No, no, no! You have to lust me, Oishi-kun, LUST me!"

"I do that, too," Oishi said. "But I love you even more!" Another jug of sake seemed to have become mysteriously empty.

Eiji wibbled. It wasn't fair. The lust couldn't be used to make Oishi fall if Oishi _loved_ him ... that sucked. That royally sucked. Heaven must have it in for him. He sighed, draping himself across Oishi's shoulders, "Well, you don't love me enough to Fall for me ... "

"If I fell, I wouldn't be able to love you..." The alcohol had long ago stopped burning his throat, Oishi realized vaguely as he emptied his next cup in one large gulp.

Eiji made a little huffing noise against Oishi's ear. "It's not like it changes you or anything ... you have to hide the loving behind lots and lots of sex. You would like that, neh?" 

"I never hide my feelings! I looooooovvvvvvvvve you!" Oishi announced, glomping onto Eiji. It was a statement of the quality of the bar that they didn't attract any attention, even though Oishi was yelling.

Eiji couldn't handle the blast of true angelic loving, flailing as the shining rays of it tried to burn his demonic nature. "Ah, stop that!"

Oishi toned down the effect by about ten watts. "Sorry." Sniff, sniff.

Eiji cringed a little before sighing and coiling himself around Oishi again, "Don't you know any other angels? Any of them? Just a little bit dubious? I know some devils ... " Oishi began yelling something again. Eiji sighed again. He was going in circles. It was going no where. Who would have thought that a drunk Oishi would be harder to seduce than a sober one? It wasn't FAIR!

* * *

Trying to find a place where he could plot the destruction of Fuji and Sengoku was getting harder and harder. The arcade was out, campus was out, and he definitely couldn't go to a bar. So Kirihara went to the next best place... a used car dealership.

Nobody noticed the devil who was currently blasting music in the BMW at the back of the lot. He'd already rolled back the mileage, saving the owner a bit of time, in what he felt was a fair exchange, so his "I'm not here, you're hearing things" spell was excusable. Kirihara liked to help these people when he could, after all.

Inui, in search of the wayward demon, popped into existence and strolled up to the BMW with the utmost casualness, dressed in a zoot suit of questionable taste and wing-tipped shoes of equally questionable taste. He leaned forward to peer inside the vehicle and knocked, awaiting an answer.

This mission, for it was in a sense a mission, was of the utmost importance to Inui. He had been sneaking a peek at the book of current history, which had been literally writing itself before his eyes. Thankfully, Yanagi had been distracted by an unfortunate collection of asshole demons with a grudge to pick with a selection of books. It wasn't Inui's doing ... really ... it wasn't. Okay, so it was. He was glad he had done it too, because it seemed quite a bit was afoot in the world ... a very interesting amount of afootness, all of which could benefit him in properly applied. Which was what had brought him a knocking on Kirihara's BMW window.

Kirihara hit the button to scroll the glass down. He hadn't expected Inui to seek him out, but considering Dan had already tried to mess with him, it wasn't a huge surprise. "Go away," he snarled, before trying to raise the window again.

Inui wasn't fool enough to stick his fingers in the window, so instead he used bit of sticking power on it instead. "I have information that may be of some interest to you."

Kirihara was immediately suspicious. The data demon never did anything that didn't benefit him. "What's it going to cost me?"

"You can owe me a ... favor."

"A small favor," Kirihara countered. "And I get to say yes or no until we find one we agree on." A favor wasn't something to be given lightly.

Inui considered this and found it reasonable, mainly because giving the information to Kirihara was already going to benefit him and the favor was just a side benefit ... it never hurt to have side benefits from the former Satan, after all. "That would be acceptable."

Kirihara hit the auto-lock to open the passenger side. "Come into my parlor," he purred.

Inui slid into the car with all the dignity that a man in a zoot suit can manage, pulling the door firmly closed behind him. "I was examining recent history and certain ... revelations have come to my attention," Inui didn't beat around the bush.

Of course his recent liaison with Sengoku sprang to mind immediately. "So? I'm not doing anything wrong!"

"Of course not, you are being exceptionally efficient in damaging that archangel's reputation." Not that Sengoku seemed to have a reputation of any worth to start with ... but Kirihara didn't need to know that.

The complement didn't relax Kirihara. If it wasn't Sengoku.... it was probably his plans to kill Fuji. But... he didn't dare say anything, because there was the high chance that Inui was merely trying to trick information out of him. "Hn," he snorted. "Then what is it?"

"What do you know about angelic or demonic rebirth?"

"It would screw up my work," Kirihara said with annoyance. "I'd hate having to kill Fu- Sengoku over and over." A wicked grin that displayed his overly sharp incisors was offered. "Means I have to completely destroy him the first time."

Inui looked ever so mildly amused, reminded of a certain bed conversation between Kirihara and his archangel. Perhaps the young demon was a bit thick upstairs. "True rebirth is very rare Kirihara. There are only three known cases in history and all of them are people who were very high up in the power structure."

"Sengoku is pretty high up there..." Kirihara replied, before raising an eyebrow. "Three?"

"Yes. One of them you wouldn't know about, so it doesn't concern you. The other is in your math class ... and you are the third." Inui leaned back to watch the percolation of that.

Inui smirked, "You're a very high level demon reborn, Kirihara. Want to know which one?"

"Try me." Kirihara didn't believe a word of what Inui was saying, but it would help to know what Inui was planning.

"Satan."

Kirihara started to laugh. "Pull the other one."

"Whether you believe me or not is your own business ... though it might also interest you to know that the one in your math class is Fuji's brother. I guess that means he helped to kill you before."

Kirihara's laughter gained a hysterical edge. "So I need to kill Mizuki now, too?"

"Of course not, it's Yuuta. Convenient that he wasn't reborn with his power intact."

Kirihara's eyes went wide as the name clicked. "Yuuta was involved in the conspiracy to kill Satan..." he said, remembering what Sengoku had told him.

"Yes." Finally, they were getting somewhere. Inui was beginning to think that he was going to have to lead Kirihara around by the hand. Not that this was a bad quality in a hopefully future Lord of Hell.

"Satan.. was insane. I'm not," Kirihara retorted.

"Satan didn't start out insane, he only became that way after he was Lord of Hell."

Kirihara bit his lip, wanting to deny all this, but a slight ringing in his ears was confusing him. "They killed me," he whispered. "Yuuta... I trusted him, and he... but I got even, right? Sengoku..." His eyes became glazed.

Considering the quality of Yuuta's existence, Inui was of the opinion that Kirihara had indeed got even. "Yes, you revenged yourself quite well on Yuuta."

"I tore him apart..."

"You damaged Yukimura, stole Fuji's brother ... "

"But Sengoku got away." Kirihara licked his lips. "All I could do was curse him..."

"If you did, it was hardly effective." Dubious though the archangel may be, he was not exactly looking bunged up by getting leveled with a demon's true curse.

"I'll have to do better this time." Kirihara suddenly shook his head, and the eyes were flaming bright red. Looking closely, Inui could see flames literally dancing on the inside, the eyes that had once frightened all creatures returning to the fore. "I need to finish what I started."

"Perhaps you can start with Fuji ... since he took your place in Hell." The suggestion was risky on principle. No one had been safe from Satan's mercurial wraths in the past, and Inui was prepared to teleport at the slightest inclination that the wrath would be directed at him.

Kirihara laughed softly. "Oh, no... that comes later." A quick hand suddenly grabbed Inui's neck, and held onto him by his aura. "I'm going to start with YOU," he whispered.

This was not in Inui's calculations at all. He struggled to teleport and failed miserably, finding himself well and truly trapped, which was the point that terror began to set in. He couldn't die right not, not yet! "You owe me a favor, remember?" Inui gasped out around Kirihara's grip.

"But I get to decide what the favor is..." Kirihara said. "Letting you live is a large favor.... maybe I should make you my first subordinate." His lips twisted, and he leaned forward to kiss Inui's forehead... branding him with his power.

Inui shivered. The brand was like a noose around his neck, even though it was better than being dead.

"We're going to take Hell back... but first I have to remind people what Hell should be like. Fuji's too complacent, too kind." His fingers dug into Inui's neck even more deeply, poking at the fabric of Inui's being. It had to be agonizing, but Kirihara had known worse pain.

Inui's gasps became choking sounds as he writhed in the other demon's grip. It was agonizing, it was a torment of hell that demons only saved from the pitiful mortals in their domain. Inui clawed madly at Kirihara's wrist, trying to make him let go.

"First things first," Kirihara said pleasantly. "We'll set some rules. You tell no one anything about me. You tell me what I want to know. And you don't conspire against me. Three little rules, not too hard to remember."

Inui nodded. Anything as long as Kirihara _let go!_

"Good boy." The fingers unwound slightly, but the eyes continued to blaze. "Now, tell me everything you know or think about Sengoku."

Inui gasped with relief, his thoughts running about wildly before they settled themselves with the return of sufficient oxygen, "It's not much: name, rank, serial number. He's at least as old as Yukimura and has been an archangel probably as long. He's also one of the ones who conspired to kill you before. But beyond that ... I don't know much else about him. I didn't even know he was an archangel until recently." 

"He's still damn good," Kirihara murmured thoughtfully. "Let me tell you a few things about him."

It would have been hard to believe for most people, but the Apocalypse became significantly closer, at that moment, in a used car lot. 


	14. Lifted to the Light

Paved with Good Intentions

by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 14 Summary: _In which a career change causes wide-spread consternation._

* * *

_Part 14: Lifted to the Light _

Heaven (and Hell, really) was a bureaucracy. This meant there was paperwork of all kinds and everyone had an office and a desk from which to fill out those forms in triplicate. A dutiful angel (and all angels were dutiful) filled out his forms in a timely manner and had plenty of time afterward to engage in his other divine duties. Tezuka was no exception to this rule (the exception to the rule had the office that was Bouncing at the moment) and so he sat at his desk and filled out his paperwork.

Which brings us to the matter of Tezuka's office. If Sengoku's was a magpie's nest and Atobe's an altar to his vanity, Tezuka's office lacked all personality whatsoever. It was devoid of knickknacks and opulence. The walls were white, the ceiling had office fluorescent paneling, the carpet was industrial grade and colored steel blue. The desk was the plainest mahogany imaginable and the only thing on it was an stand for an ink pen and a black, cordless telephone. A gray file cabinet stood lonely in a corner while a small, round, white clock ticked on the wall. The only bookshelf in the room was behind him and it was mostly empty (Tezuka had everything of importance memorized). Even Tezuka's chair was a plain, cushioned, blue computer chair on rollers. There were no extra chairs ... Tezuka did not have visitors. Not a spot of leather to be seen, not a drop of gold, not a single hint that this was the office of an archangel. It was immaculate, but empty of life.

The knock that sounded on the door probably surprised him, since his secretary Momoshiro had long since been trained to keep visitors away while he was working. Then again, it _was_ Tezuka, and very little surprised him.

Tezuka didn't even glance up from his work. Either they were persistent or they were too high up to deny. "Come in."

Momoshiro opened the door, coming in slowly. His face was absolutely white, and his eyes were large as saucers. "Tezuka-san..." he said, then shook his head. "There's... Well..." He seemed to be suffering a shock large enough to affect his speaking facilities.

Tezuka blinked once slowly, "There's ... ?"

"I think he was trying to announce me, Tezuka," a smooth, impossible voice said from the door.

Tezuka suffered a momentary thought that he was hearing things. Had someone stuck a microphone into the vents again? "Then come in." Best to have this voice confirmed.

In walked Fuji Syuusuke, the devil himself. He was wearing white today, perhaps in honor of his visit to heaven... but the devil shouldn't have been able to visit heaven in the first place. "Hello, Tezuka," he said sweetly. "Thanks, Momoshiro-kun." He gave the assistant angel a smile...

Which made Momoshiro shudder. "Um, I'll just go back to my desk, okay? Okay!" Momoshiro answered himself, darting for the door and getting out of the line of fire. The door "clicked" shut behind him, leaving the two alone.

Tezuka very carefully set his pen down and pulled his glasses off his nose, lifting a handkerchief from his pocket to polish them. His glasses were surely trying to play tricks on him. Satisfied with their clarity, he resettled them on his nose. Alas, the vision didn't change. He gathered he would be forced to acknowledge it, "Fuji. How and why are you here?" 

"Because I love you and want to share my life with you," Fuji announced. The smile that lit his face was full of pure joy.

Tezuka didn't believe that for a minute. "Why are you _really_ here?"

"I just told you," Fuji said. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "My recent vacation has given me time to reflect, and I decided that as much fun as it is to play with mortals, I'd rather have you. I mean, sex is fun, but it's empty without love," Fuji stated softly.

"I acknowledge your arrival is a very clever strategy in our private war, but do not bother to pretend it is the only reason you are here."

"I guess I have to show you my sincerity," Fuji said thoughtfully. Glancing around, he moved into the center of the room... and then spread his wings.

His wings were a glorious white, shining forth an aura so powerful that it made Tezuka's eyes hurt. The cascade of feathers all seemed tipped in silver, and the beautiful light that came off of them was reassuring, rather than frightening. It was an angel's aura; there was no way Fuji could have manufactured it.

There was a very long silence as Tezuka's gaze traced along the curve of angelic wings. "So what made you suddenly decide to Rise?" Obviously something had made the self-serving Fuji the Devil decide to run like crazy and Tezuka was neither vain enough to believe it was himself or trusting enough to believe that Fuji actually loved him. So something must be up on Earth.

"It's been in the works for a while." Fuji shrugged. "Now that I know where Yuuta is, I figured it would be the best to finally admit how you made me feel." The wings slowly receded, and Fuji walked around the desk to sit on Tezuka's lap.

Tezuka pushed away from the desk and stood, fully intending to dump Fuji onto the floor.

"Kiss me," Fuji said softly, clinging to him like a limpet.

"No." Since all Fuji seemed to be interested in was seducing him, it was time to get away from Fuji. Tezuka made his way to the door, habit keeping him from never quite turning his back on the other angel.

"Tezuka... if I'm rejected, that might cause me to Fall again... and if you think a woman scorned is bad, you haven't seen how the devil himself reacts to it..."

Tezuka felt his fists clench and forced them to relax. "An angel and someone who loves me decides to threaten me. It is no wonder I doubt the veracity of your claims."

"It's not a threat... merely a statement of my devotion," said Fuji. He leaned back on Tezuka's chair, idly rotating back and forth.

Tezuka told himself he should remain calm. Completely and utterly calm. Angels being unable to lie or not, they could still bend the truth ... and no doubt Fuji would bend truth like the best of them. "Then go on back to hell, Fuji. I officially reject you."

And that was a gamble. A risky gamble, yes, since if Fuji told the exact truth, life was going to get complicated ... but if he hadn't, then Fuji was in heaven for the sake of personal convenience and Tezuka was merely the icing on his personal little cake.

Fuji smiled slightly. "A curse from an angel is a serious thing... almost as bad as a curse from a devil. I suppose you would know that..."

Tezuka shrugged, "Just because I promised I would not be with anyone except you did not mean I would ever be with you, either."

Fuji raised an eyebrow. "You have a will of iron-"

"The job requires nothing less."

"-and no hormones," Fuji continued blithely, ignoring Tezuka's comment.

Tezuka shrugged again and once more moved to the door. He just wasn't stupid, and he was sure that Fuji wasn't going to stick around anyway (Fuji's heavenly record of loyalty toward God was about as spotty as a leopard skin rug). No point getting involved with someone who was going to leave you anyway.

Fuji's smirk widened just a bit as he left the chair to come next to Tezuka. He laced his arm through the archangel's, his face gentle and friendly. "I haven't been here in a while, not since Lucifer dragged me down with him. How about you give me a tour?" His body language was possessive and it was clear he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Tezuka tried to jerk his arm away. "Nothing changed. Let go."

"Never. I came here for you, and you're not getting rid of me that easily." Fuji's hand tightened like a pair of manacles.

"Fine. Whatever. Let go. I have paperwork to finish."

"I'll help," Fuji said. "I'm going to be right by your side from now on."

"I do not need your help," was the flat reply as Tezuka finally managed to pull away so he could retreat to his desk. He picked up the pen with grim determination and pulled the paper close to him, fully intending to ignore Fuji from now until eternity if that was what was necessary. Too bad the entire incident was giving him a migraine ... though that did give him a perfectly good excuse to go to Earth, and drag Fuji right back into the thick of whatever it was he was running from.

* * *

Something was... different... about hell. Niou couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he could feel an undercurrent of change, much like static electricity. His hair was standing on end, and Karupin, the three-headed guardian cat, was out of sorts which was not a good sign.

Whatever-it-was was also making Yagyuu feel ... skittish, like he should be looking over his shoulder for someone or hiding from something. Though why a devil should hide from _anything_ except The Devil was something he couldn't understand ...

The two were lounging in their own little corner of hell, naked as the day they were created. Niou was wound up, and even their usual great sex hadn't been able to soothe him. Niou felt tense, like a rubberband was about to snap. Abandoning his partner, he rose to his feet to begin pacing the room. It took him eight and a half steps each time, as he crossed back and forth.

Yagyuu sat up to watch him, snagging his glasses from where they had been discarded and settling them back on his nose. 459 steps (or 54 rounds) later he finally asked, "What _is_ that? And where's Fuji? He should be _here_." Without realizing it, Yagyuu had hit the nail right on its proverbial head and smashed that nail right up the arse of a bit of wood.

"Fuck..." Niou said, suddenly realizing exactly what was missing. All the minions of Hell had a minor link to the Devil, mainly so Fuji could keep track of them.

The link was missing.

Yagyuu cocked his head, hoping Niou would elaborate on his statement of fucking.

"Reach out with your power," Niou prompted.

Yagyuu did as his lover suggested, reaching out, for what he didn't know ... only to find that something was missing that _should_ have been there. "Shit."

It wasn't any wonder they didn't notice immediately. For Niou, who'd always been among the evil, the link was as much a part of him as his hair. While its absence was notable, it wasn't painful. "There's no Lord of Hell right now..." Niou whispered, his eyes widening as he realized exactly what that meant.

" ... which means there's an opening for a new Lord of Hell," Yagyuu murmured, his attention focusing immediately on Niou, who was admittedly one of the three directly in line for the position should it have become available (as it apparently just had). He paused though and snickered a little to himself. Okay, so he couldn't actually _see_ Niou as Lord of Hell.

"Oh, no," Niou said, holding his hands out in front of him protectively. "I am not fighting Inui and Dan for it..." He was pretty sure he was stronger than Inui, but he didn't want to underestimate Dan. The pseudo-innocent was older than dirt.

Yagyuu smirked a little. "I thought not. We can see who comes out on top first."

Niou smiled slyly. "If it's someone who won't let me do what I want, maybe then we'll talk about Lord Niou."

"It has a nice ring to it ... Lord Niou," Yagyuu rolled the title on his tongue, letting a purr slip in.

Niou chuckled, but it died abruptly. "What do you think happened to Fuji? It's quite possible he's hiding, waiting for us to kill each other..."

Yagyuu thought about it for a long moment. "If he was dead, we would have felt that, right?"

"… how would I know? Dan is the only devil old enough to remember Satan's death..."

"Perhaps we should ask him ... since it would be in our self interest to form at least a temporary alliance."

Niou was having a very hard time picturing Dan as the new Big Bad. "You think he's going to win?"

"Not necessarily, but the two of you are more than enough to remove Inui from the running at least."

"Point." Niou waved a hand, and his clothing whipped off the floor and onto his body. "Get dressed, we'll find him."

An equivalent hand wave sucked Yagyuu's clothes off the floor and onto his body as well while he clambered out of bed to join his lover. "Where to first?"

"Where else... the playground."

It was a matter of thought for the two of them to shift from their corner of hell to Dan's, which was in the form of an extended playground plus sandbox. Red jungle gym bars twisted about, a sure torture chamber for those not familiar with their interior. Sand awaited every opportunity to creep into clothing and shoes to itch skin. It was evil and innocent all at once.

It wasn't too hard to find Dan, either. He was sitting in the sand, rolling a ball back and forth with Jin, who apparently had finally made it back down to hell. Not that Jin was actually rolling anything so much as kicking it in a sullen manner while growling at the chibi demon and puffing determinedly on his cigar.

Niou knew exactly what he had to do. Timing his movement perfectly, he snatched the ball right as it left Dan's hands, kicking sand in both of the others' faces in the process.

Dan flailed with a squawk of outrage, bouncing to his feet and flailing some more at Niou. "You give that back! It's mine!"

Jin calmly reached up and brushed sand off himself before moving forward to beat the other demon to a pulp, fists clenched up in preparation for a knock down, drag out fight - before Yagyuu got in his way.

Niou's lips quirked as he stared down at the smallest devil. "I need your undivided attention," he purred, rolling the ball back and forth over his hand in a deft display of ability. Balancing it on his fingertips, he produced claws on the other hand to threaten the ball's spherical integrity.

Dan's eyes wobbled dangerously with tears as he snuffled, "What do you want, desu?"

"Have you noticed anything... odd?"

Dan snuffled some more on principle, looking woefully pathetic, before answering, "You mean Fuji being gone?"

"That would qualify."

"What about it?"

Niou sometimes wondered exactly how Dan had managed to survive as long as he had. "Oh, nothing in particular, except the fact there's currently no Lord of Hell and a massive power struggle is about to take place?"

Dan gave Niou his most innocent look. "Of course there's a Lord of Hell, Niou-kun ... he just hasn't decided to come down yet."

"You can't mean Ryoma or Kirihara," Niou said in horror.

Dan grinned with glee. "Don't be silly ... of course it's not Ryoma-kun."

Niou felt his stomach drop. "Kirihara..." he hissed. "How in Hell did he manage to swing that?" Niou knew Fuji had been keeping an eye on the promising upstart, but for him to leap three rungs up in the hellish hierarchy was unprecedented.

Dan giggled and spun around like a little boy for whom Christmas had come early. "Well ... he was Lord of Hell before he kicked the bucket. So it's only natural he should be in line for ascension when he's been reborn." A little titch like Dan should not be allowed to smirk that much.

Niou looked at Yagyuu, hoping that his smarter half would be able to figure what In Hell was Going on With Hell.

Yagyuu backed up a step from Jin (so any deviation of his attention from the overly muscled devil opposite him wouldn't result in an immediate ass kicking) before asking slowly, "Are you saying that Kirihara was Lucifer or Satan?" There were only two previous Lords of Hell, though either of them would be Bad News if they happened to reappear in any incarnation. Personally, Yagyuu couldn't blame Fuji for running scared if that was the case.

Dan beamed at Yagyuu as though he were a prime student. "Yep!"

Yagyuu shuddered. "Which one?"

A childish giggle. "Satan-kun!"

"Yagyuu? How's heaven this time of year?" Niou asked, feeling a wave of utter terror wash through him. Kirihara was rather crazy to start with, and if it turned out he had the power of Satan behind him...

Yagyuu moved closer to Niou, as if seeking a feeling of comfort next to his closest ally in hell. "I hear it's quite bright and sparkling. Perfect for vacationing."

Dan pouted at them. "Cowards."

"Damn right," Niou said. "If Satan is about to reappear, I'm thinking a few rays of heavenly light don't sound that bad. Do they serve pina coladas?"

"As long as you don't intend to get drunk," Yagyuu replied, looking a touch amused. "But how do you intend to get there? You were never very good at being good." Not that this bothered Yagyuu, mind you, he _liked_ Niou when he was being bad.

"I was very good at my work. I think I'll talk to Yukimura about investigating a possible career shift," he mused, wrapping an arm around Yagyuu's shoulders. "We can discuss it for a century or so before we need to commit."

"Mmmmm, yes. No need to be hasty about the decision, after all."

Dan pouted and lunged for his ball. "Fence sitters."

Niou gave a pointed glance at the company Dan was keeping.

Jin flipped Niou the bird in return. Dan just smirked back at Niou. "You'll see. They never like fence sitters if they're in the middle of a war."

"Don't care if they like us. As long as we survive, what's a little cowardice between friends?" Niou asked. "Besides... where's Fuji right now?"

Dan nodded at Niou's point. Who did care as long as you survived? "In heaven. He ran pretty fast too."

"We always knew he was a smart one," Niou said. "You interested in coming?"

Dan shook his head and smiled brightly in Niou's direction. "No. I have a job I have to do here."

"It was nice knowing you." Niou said. "Well, not really, but..." he shrugged. He wasn't crazy enough to offer help, especially with no foreseeable profit in it. Fuji had been a handful, but all reports said that Satan had been just plain _bad._ There was no way Niou was going to be in the same dimension when Kirihara finally returned.

"Have fun, Niou-kun, Yagyuu-kun. Don't get into trouble." Dan waved and the ball snapped out of Niou's hands and spun back into Dan's. Personally, he was looking forward to the arrival of Kirihara with great anticipation. It was about time one of the real Lords of Hell appeared. Now they could finally have a real divine war.

* * *

There's times when the "Oh SHIT!" meter starts flashing bright red and orange as things go down the crapper. This was one of them.

Atobe was smart - despite his ego, he was efficient at his job and tended to recognized when problems needed to be dealt with directly, rather than by one of his many minions. So when his priceless diamond chandelier fell off the ceiling almost onto his head, he had decided that enough was enough and he was going to get involved. He knew exactly who was at fault.

Materializing on Earth, he sniffed in disdain as a pimply co-ed stared at him. Really, couldn't Sengoku have chosen a college with prettier girls? Or at least ones who didn't look like they were the "before" picture in an Oxy ad?

Sengoku paused in mid-snap of fingers, having fully prepared to cause a wind to come up near the girl's skirt. He smiled ever so brightly at Atobe, as if he hadn't been thinking of mischief at all. "Hello, messenger boy!"

Atobe did not twitch this time. He was too concerned to react with any of his usual annoyance. "Sengoku, what is going on?" he demanded, his arms crossed over his chest as his fingers drummed impatiently against his perfect chin.

A flame puffed between Sengoku's fingers before he waved his hand absently to put it out. "Going on? Is anything going on?"

"Sengoku, there was an heavenquake. I'll say something is going on," he said, a slight scowl marring his face.

Sengoku sighed, looking perhaps a fraction ... stressed. Except it boggled the mind why a do-nothing-except-loaf-angel would look stressed. "Well, that would be caused by the beginnings of a critical imbalance in The Balance."

Atobe grabbed Sengoku's collar with both hands. "What did you _do_?"

"_I_ didn't do anything. Fuji is the one who left Hell."

It took a second for that one to process. "Excuse me? You're saying Hell is currently without a lord?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I said."

The fabric in Atobe's hands slipped free as he stared at Sengoku for a second. "Then how come I see an aura of chaos around you?" It was true - small wisps of gray smoke appeared in Atobe's sight. It was a gift of his, an uncanny ability to perceive the state of other's minds and auras.

Sengoku shrugged, reaching up to straighten his shirt from where Atobe had yanked it out of place, "Someone is going to have to take Fuji's place. The list of possible candidates is kinda small, yanno."

Atobe checked his own aura, and was relieved to see it was just as shiny as ever. "I'm not one, so why are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Hello? Screwing the enemy? Doesn't that count as making you almost qualified for Hell?" It wasn't the exact truth, mind you, but it sounded highly probable.

"It should have qualified you already," Atobe said. "So... where did Fuji get to? And why?"

Sengoku tipped himself backward to look at the clouds, as if to discern hidden meaning from their puffy whiteness. "I'd say he's with Tezuka right now ... how else could he Rise without shamelessly exploiting the love clause?"

Atobe knew that angelicide was a sin, so he refrained from strangling Sengoku only by sheer force of will. "Sengoku... why?" He had the feeling Sengoku would know. Recently he'd been made more aware that Sengoku tended to know everything as it happened, something which Atobe disliked.

Sengoku was silent for a long moment before he sighed and dropped his head to focus on Atobe. "You realize that the more you know, the more of a target you make yourself, right?" 

"I'm an archangel. I think I'm already on the top ten list," Atobe said with impatience. "Spill."

"Satan figured himself out."

"Huh?"

"Kirihara. Realized. He. Was. Satan." Sengoku said this very slowly, as though Atobe was a newborn angel ... or just a really stupid one.

Atobe took a deep breath, and could only think of one thing to say. "Shit."

"Yes."

Atobe's mind whipped through the possibilities and only came to one conclusion. "You need to kill Kirihara, now," he said.

Sengoku's reply was a "No" of the flattest kind.

"Yes, you will. He's going insane," said Atobe. "He's not going to let any of us near enough to kill him but you."

"How about you actually try that theory first?" Sengoku's smile was almost malicious, which caused it to promptly catch fire. He beat the flames out with something resembling extreme annoyance.

Atobe stepped back slowly, his eyes fastened on Sengoku with extreme worry. "You're going insane..."

Sengoku sighed, "No ... just under pressure. I happen to combust under pressure."

It was a sign of how serious Sengoku was that Atobe didn't snipe at him for his weakness. Instead, Atobe grabbed Sengoku's arm (which felt much hotter than it should have), and teleported the both of them to Atobe's office.

Jackal had just finished clearing the chandelier, and he looked up at his boss's arrive with tired eyes. "Can I get you anything?"

"A jug of ice water and two glasses," Atobe commanded.

Jackal didn't (quite) sigh, but his expression was put-upon as he left the room to fill the order.

Sengoku blinked at the other archangel, more than a little startled. "God'll have words over you teleporting like that." It was mild enough statement, though, said in an exceptionally mild manner ... more something to say than anything else.

"That's the pot speaking," Atobe murmured as he let Sengoku go and came around to take a place at his desk.

"It is!" Sengoku grinned and decided to plunk himself down in one of the chairs opposite Atobe's desk. Ah, so decadent and plushy ...

Atobe rested his elbows on his desk, propping his hand up on his chin as he studied Sengoku. "There's only so many balls you can keep in the air," he said finally.

Sengoku made a face at him. "To which specific balls are you referring?" Here, in the pure marvel of Atobe's office, the flames had decided that they were too passe, and were manifesting as little lightning crackles instead, dancing down the side of an arm or leg.

"You may not like me much, but I have a pretty good idea of what you're up to." Atobe tossed his hair back, and suddenly he didn't seem so silly. His eyes grew stern and a glint of the power he commanded sparked in his eyes. "Sengoku, the house of cards you built is about to come down."

"Down in the hellish sense, unfortunately."

Atobe shut his eyes, rubbing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to suggest this, but... "Maybe it would be better if you went down there."

"If I go down there, there _will_ be a war ... if only because there will be quite a number of witnesses who will need to be eliminated before things can return to the status quo."

The possibilities were shrinking by the minute. "What do you want to do?"

"Wait, for now. Kirihara would be a good Lord of Hell if we can keep him from walking the old path." A thoughtful look took up residence on Sengoku's face, along with a collection of firefly sparkles, which spun around his head briefly before combusting out of existence.

Atobe shook his head. "Kirihara will never be the Lord of Hell again."

"Why not?"

Atobe's eyes grew slightly distant and he could see the image in front of him, as clearly as an image on a television screen. "Because he's going to die again."

A soft sigh and a shrug was Sengoku's only outward response. "Ah well ... I had hoped not. Thanks for the water, Atobe!" Which still hadn't made its appearance, but it was the thought that counted. Sengoku bounced to his feet and waved, leaving a charred outline behind in his chair.

Just then, the door opened and Jackal appeared, bearing the water he had been sent for. Atobe, absolutely disgusted, stalked over to grab the pitcher, and dumped it all over the chair to put out the few stray embers that threatened the rest of his furnishings. "Be so kind as to clean that up," he ordered, ignoring the put-upon look Jackal wore on his dark features.

"Trouble not the help, dearest associate. I can clean up my own messes," Sengoku blathered on his way to the door, waving a hand to restore the sorry state of Atobe's furniture to its original decadent delight. Then he was out the door and making a beeline to Earth, before Atobe happened to realize that the power surges he was experiencing at the moment had just multiplied the one chair to ten. Whoops! Surely, Kirihara _had_ to be safer at the moment! 


	15. Rebirth is a Bitch

** Paved with Good Intentions**

by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 15 Summary: In which the new Lord of Evil displays his wicked power.

* * *

_Part 15: Rebirth is a Bitch_

Study time, the bane of all students and the prime source of goofing off. Mizuki happened to fall into the goofing off syndrome more times than he liked to admit. No, he was not above shamelessly wasting time. Especially when that time wasting happened to entail lots and lots of sex with Yuuta.

Mizuki smirked as he pushed the door open to Yuuta's room without so much as a by-your-leave, looking around for his boyfriend.

Yuuta had been acting strangely for the past couple of days. He'd completely lost any trace of embarrassment about sex, and even done a few things which had managed to shock Mizuki. It was like he was a different person. Not that Mizuki was complaining, even if he did miss the way Yuuta had blushed and suspected that perhaps his boyfriend had picked up another lover from whence all this secret knowledge had come.

Yuuta was sitting rather comfortably on the bed, sans socks. The jeans he wore were old and well-broken in, sculpting his legs beautifully, and Mizuki was pleased to note a shirt was missing. All that hung from his throat was a rather nice necklace which dangled tantalizingly over his chest. There was an air of sensuality about him, a casual feeling of sexiness radiating as he flipped a page in his literature text.

It was too much to resist, really, so Mizuki moved to Yuuta's side and slid onto the bed with him, reaching out to slide a hand up his leg. "Hello, Yuuta-kun."

Yuuta's lips curled slightly as he leaned into the warm body against him. Resting his head on Mizuki's shoulder, he continued to read.

So Yuuta wanted to play innocent, ne? Mizuki could handle that. He slid his hand slowly up and down the other boy's leg, murmuring an inquisitive, "What are you reading?"

"The Gay Kama Sutra," Yuuta announced, sliding a book which he'd been hiding among the pages free. "How flexible are you?"

Shocking. Yuuta had become simply shocking ... and intriguing. "Mmmm, I would hope I'm flexible enough."

Yuuta held up one of the most colorful images. "I think we could adapt this..."

Mizuki flushed. "We could."

"Or... this?" Yuuta flipped to another page. "I wonder how he makes his tongue do that..."

Mizuki's fingers tightened sporadically on Yuuta's thigh and he smirked again. "I'm sure there's a way, Yuuta-kun."

The lights in the room flickered, and Yuuta dropped his book. There was the sound of hissing, much like the way a kettle sounded before it boiled, though Mizuki couldn't pinpoint where it came from. Yuuta's eyes narrowed as he stared at the radiator. "Are you going to come out of there?"

"Maybe," called a half-familiar voice.

Mizuki could only blink in pure confusion at the voice coming from the radiator. What was Kirihara-kun doing in there? If he was in there? How could he _fit_ in there? It had to be a practical joke ...

Laughter rang through the room, and then smoke started to leak from the radiator. Yuuta threw his arm across Mizuki, pinning him in place. "Whatever happens, stay still," he ordered through the side of his mouth.

"Yuuta? What "

The smoke begin to thicken, and it was a wonder the alarms didn't go off. In less than thirty seconds, Kirihara Akaya stood in the middle of the room, hands folded into the pockets of his tight black leather pants. He licked his lips slowly, focusing red eyes on Yuuta. "Hello, Yuuta," he purred.

That was impossible. Simply impossible. There was no way that anyone could do what Kirihara had just done. Mizuki opened his mouth to protest only to snap it shut again.

Yuuta wasn't paying him any attention, anyway. He was completely focused on Kirihara. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Can't I see an old friend?" Kirihara asked, though the level of venom in his words made it clear how "friendly" he and Yuuta were.

"Why wait all this time?" Yuuta asked.

"Let's just say I've discovered myself."

Yuuta's face drained of all its color. "Mizuki, do you know any prayers?"

"No," was the whisper of a reply from the frozen Mizuki. The situation hadn't fail to impress upon him its dire nature.

"Start inventing some."

"Oh, uh ... father who art in heaven ... "

"Now look what you've done, Kirihara ... you've made Mizuki convert to religion. I'm so proud!" That voice happened to come from someone equally familiar to Mizuki, who was leaning against the door to Yuuta's room like he'd been there since forever (which he hadn't, but he liked to pretend he did). Sengoku waved at them before making what could only be called 'heart eyes' in Kirihara's general direction.

It was getting too weird for Mizuki. Briefly he contemplated fainting.

Kirihara's smile didn't waver. "Are you here to watch me, lover?" he asked. He bowed mockingly. "I promise this will be a show worth seeing."

"Hopefully he's here to kill you for good this time," Yuuta snapped angrily.

"That's certainly a high possibility considering he was about to do something stupid again," Sengoku nodded sagely.

Mizuki was beginning to wonder what the fark was going on, not to mention why Sengoku always had to make things weirder than they already were.

Kirihara stared at Sengoku and as their eyes met, flames literally sparked. Yuuta grabbed the pillow off the bed to smother them before the carpet could ignite.

"Stop it!" he said in a commanding voice which was hard to believe came from the normally wishy-washy young man. "In case you haven't noticed, there's two mortals in the room!"

Sengoku rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, Yuuta-kun. It's been a sparkly power sort of day. Whelp, you heard the boy, Kirihara, we should take this outside." For Kirihara, the world began to twist just a little, a sure sign Sengoku was about to wrench them both through the ephemeral.

"Let's not," Kirihara said. "I didn't come here for you." His eyes narrowed as he looked at Yuuta. "Yuuta, I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

Yuuta opened his mouth to make some kind of demand, but Kirihara's eyes flashed again... and suddenly he was coughing up blood. His eyes widened in panic as he fell to his knees, too weak to move.

"Sorry about the blood," Kirihara said to Mizuki before waggling his fingers cheerfully. "But it's kinda hard to avoid when your heart is exploding, cell by cell... agonizing, isn't it?"

Yuuta's eyes fluttered, and he fell forward onto the floor... and then stopped breathing.

"That was almost too quick," Kirihara said in disappointment, before kissing Sengoku on the cheek. "Later, lover," he purred, flashing out of the room with a puff of smoke.

Mizuki stared and stared and stared ... and reached down to shake Yuuta's shoulder, "Yuuta-kun ... hey, Yuuta-kun. Get up. It was a great joke, really. Get up ... " Why was his chest so tight?

Sengoku watched his classmate slowly sink to his knees, shaking Yuuta harder, demanding that he get up a demand that became a wail which was where he vanished from the room like an image wavering in the sun, whispering, "Oh, Mizuki ... "

* * *

Fuji Syuusuke rarely got angry. He'd spend time annoyed, and occasionally irritated, but it took a lot to truly piss him off.

He was angry now... and it was a sight to see.

The fact that Fuji was angry was making Tezuka wary, which happened to manifest itself only in the occasional twitch of a eyelid behind the glint of his glasses.

Fuji was pacing Tezuka's office, occasionally creating small bolts of lightning which he threw at the wall. He hadn't given a reason for his rage, but the words he was muttering made it clear that he blamed Sengoku.

Tezuka just huffed quietly under his breath and shuffled papers to release the little simmer of unease that was growing in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong in the universe ...

Fuji was speaking softly to himself. Sadly, it wasn't enough to make sense to anyone. "Should I... kill... revenge..."

These ramblings made Tezuka wonder if Fuji was going off the deep end. He also wondered if that meant he would Fall again and finally leave his office in peace. Tezuka allowed the corner of his lips to twitch. That was a very nice thought: Peace.

Fuji apparently came to some kind of decision, stalking over to plant himself firmly in Tezuka's lap. He was very fond of sitting there. "Do you have any idea what Kirihara just did?" he asked, grabbing Tezuka's shirt.

Tezuka deigned to raise an eyebrow, "Something unpleasant?"

"Something against the rules," Fuji said. "He just killed a mortal."

Definitely unpleasant. Not that it was particularly surprising given the nature of the parties involved. Tezuka tipped his head forward slightly. "That will certainly simplify the matter of dealing with him, then."

"Normally I'd agree, but... he killed Yuuta. Again," Fuji said, his face twisting up in annoyance.

"He will be reborn."

"He's probably already being born somewhere. That's not the point!" Fuji said in frustration. "I rarely _find_ him when he's young and handsome! You know what it's like trying to screw an eighty year old?"

"You are not allowed to bother him anyway, remember?"

"When's that ever stopped me?"

"Ah. I see. Then your promise is worthless, then. Get off my lap."

"I never promised to leave him alone. _You_ told me to, which is entirely different and since I don't seem to be getting anything out of you..." Fuji remained firmly planted, a slight pout on his lips.

"That was the point. You wanted something to do in exchange for leaving him alone."

"You completely miss the point," Fuji said. "You're still a virgin, I'm frustrated, and my brother is dead!"

"And I intend to stay a virgin since you can not be trusted to uphold your end of our agreement." As for the other two problems, well, Tezuka didn't see what was so horrifying about them considering Yuuta _was_ being reborn and Fuji had brought the frustration on himself by Rising.

Fuji sniffed. "I was the devil - what did you expect?" He lowered his long lashes, staring up through them coquetishly. "But I'm good now, so what's past is past. Having you ever heard that forgiveness was God's greatest gift?"

"I can forgive you without having to give you what you want," Tezuka replied, with the slightest edge of sharpness. You couldn't even papercut yourself on this kind of sharpness.

"Don't you love me, just a little?" Fuji asked wistfully.

"Whether I love you or not has little relevance to this discussion."

Fuji's fists clenched and suddenly he was on his feet again, sparking power. "We can talk about that later, I suppose. Right now someone has to go scream at Sengoku for being an idiot." His look indicated he expected Tezuka to help. "How on earth did he manage to let Kirihara go this crazy?"

Tezuka didn't actually use the scream function in his vocal cords, so he wasn't quite sure why he was necessary to this operation, but he got up anyway. Besides, he was feeling strangely chilly now that Fuji wasn't warming his lap, and figured the trip would be good exercise. "You can hardly expect an angel to make someone do something, such as not go crazy."

"Tezuka - we're talking about Sengoku," Fuji pointed out.

The slight huff of breath was Tezuka's response since unfortunately Fuji had a point.

"Where would he be right now?" Fuji asked. "His office is in hell, but... he's probably gone somewhere to sulk where no one expects..."

"I know where he is," Tezuka replied without thought, moving to exit his office through the door rather than teleport. One should always leave the office through the door and Tezuka was a stickler for stupid little details like this.

Fuji followed after him, not bothering to respect personal space as he walked less than a foot away. "Where?"

"In a tree."

* * *

Shishido had learned one thing in the past week: he absolutely hated books and wanted to throttle whoever had invented the written word.

He'd always known the library was vast, but no one had ever actually made him _Read_ any of it. Every now and them Ohtori would get caught up in something and ask for research help, but that was different. Ohtori never sent him on wild goose chases.

Ohtori, on the other hand, was enthralled. Sure, there were extensive boring sections of history devoted solely to the chit-chat about things no rational being really needed to know ... but the rest of it? Fascinating. Angelic history was fraught with all kinds of minor intrigues and glorious victories and moments of righteous fervor okay, so Ohtori had gotten caught up in details and had kinda been reading up on stuff before the flood.

Ohtori closed the book gently, so Yanagi wouldn't notice, and glanced at Shishido, smiling brightly. "Have you found anything yet?"

"If I had, do you think I'd still be sitting here?" Shishido asked a bit waspishly, instantly regretting it when he remembered who he was talking to. "Sorry, Choutarou. I'm just a bit frustrated."

Ohtori merely nodded amicably, used to Shishido's moods. "Oh no, I meant anything else that was interesting." Since he was just dying to share his latest revelation, but it wasn't polite unless someone else shared first.

"I'm reading about the composition of soil. It's fascinating," Shishido said dryly, "in a masochistic, I need a life kind of way."

"It helps if you just skim those parts, Shishido-san."

"It's completely unorganized! One second it's talking about what Caesar said to his legions, while the next it's ruminating on the mating habits of iguanas! It's hard to skip anything, because as soon as I start skipping..."

"You supervisor will be leaning over your shoulder?" a voice inserted smoothly.

Ohtori nearly started and hid the book behind his back, but sheer force of will kept him right where he was, looking distinctly not guilty. "Yanagi-san!"

Yanagi, who currently was balancing two open books in his hands, nodded. Somehow or other it appeared he was reading both at the same time. "Have you found anything relevant?" he asked.

"Well ... no," Ohtori was the picture of contriteness.

Shishido was busy wondering how Yanagi always managed to creep up behind him. The superior angel was quieter than a cat, and ten times as nosey. "I've seen nothing in those stupid books."

Yanagi smiled a bit, and Shishido braced himself for a zinger. "It's not the books that are stupid, it's the person reading whom is incapable of comprehending."

Shishido bristled, but knew better than to get into a war of words with a professed grammarian. "Yanagi-senpai, do you know how long it will take to find something?" He gestured around him. "I've gotten through maybe 1,000 of these..."

"You're not going anywhere," Yanagi replied with a slight shrug. "A couple decades isn't that long..."

"Um, Yanagi-san? I have a question," Ohtori raised his hand.

"Yes?" Yanagi jiggled his right hand a bit, deftly flipping a page.

"If someone deliberately stole those books during the confusion ... would it have been possible that they stole the current volume of history that was being written at that moment? The one that would have recorded what they were doing?"

"The theft would have been recorded in the replacing volume..." Yanagi said. "It's an endless cycle, one of the thefts would be written about somewhere..." His face paled a bit as he considered the possibility. "Though there is a question of when the theft was recorded." He blinked as he glanced at the millions of volumes that surrounded them. "A couple of centuries, and we should be able to find it..."

"But Inui-san was reading history as it was being written ... why couldn't someone have taken that book while it was being written? Wouldn't that mean his theft of that book would have been written in that book?" Ohtori wasn't tattling on Inui per se so much as trying to clarify his point. Shishido was looking mighty grumpy over having to read volumes and volumes and the sooner Ohtori could get them both free of the task the better both of them would feel.

"I wonder why he would have been doing that..." Yanagi murmured. "Any ideas?" he asked Shishido.

"How would I know?"

"Well, you worked with him for several centuries..."

"I did _not_!" Shishido was very offended. "I worked under Nanjiroh-sama..."

"Extrapolate, then. Why would you watch the current version of history being written?"

"Because it's more interesting than learning about dung beetles?"

Ohtori huffed quietly. Shishido was cute when he was being a bit of a smart ass.

"It was more interesting that the growth of mold spores," Inui acknowledged, popping up right behind Ohtori, glancing sharply over his shoulder as he did so. Just to make sure that there was no one behind him, really, that was all, he wasn't trying to look out for Satan at all ...

"Inui-san!" Ohtori caroled in reply, whipping his head around to blast poor Inui with shining rays of hope, peace, and the glory of righteousness. Naturally, Inui cringed. And then double-cringed.

Shishido couldn't help but smirk. Ohtori's blinding purity did have its uses... sometimes he'd wager that the devil himself would shy away from Ohtori's innocent power.

"Hello, Sadaharu," Yanagi said, finally looking up from the books. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to supply an answer?"

Inui adjusted his glasses and scuttled behind a pile of books to get out of Ohtori's direct line of sight. The brilliance scoured the ground clean on both sides of the stack. "I had hoped the answer would be obvious, Renji."

"Plotting." Yanagi sighed, looking a bit disinterested.

"There _are_ great things currently at work ... if you were not so stuck in the past you might notice them." Inui could admit to himself that he was laying a lot of hopes on Yanagi's ability to pick up on subtle desperation. As for the books, if they hadn't been made of the heaven stuff, Inui would suspect them of being slowly burned away by the Ohtori Beam.

Yanagi's hackles rose, though he didn't give a sign of it. Inui was hinting that something in the current books would be of interest to him... which immediately made him suspicious. What was Inui trying to do? he wondered. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to fall for it. "Sometimes the lessons of the past are things that should not be forgotten. Those who refuse to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Talk about grinding in the painful fact that Inui had terribly miscalculated with Satan. How painful was yet to be figured, but Inui was betting that he had barely a taste of the torment that was probably going to be coming to him as Satan's minion. Inui nearly flinched, "You do realize that Hell is without a Lord." One binding in place of another had not blinded Inui to the loss of the first.

"What?" Yanagi and Shishido asked in unison. Shishido felt his breathing quicken, his hands shaking a bit. "What happened to Fuji?" Shishido continued alone. He'd been fond of Fuji - great in bed, and more mischievous evil than malicious evil. He couldn't imagine anything that could take Fuji out without taking half the world with it - and they would have noticed an Apocalypse.

Ohtori just blinked at this sudden whiplash of information, letting his beam falter and die. Inui took the golden opportunity to slide out from behind the books and nod, just a little smugly. "He's simply ... gone."

Yanagi stared at Inui, feeling his fingers twitch a bit. He desperately wanted to grab the current volume to figure out what was going on... but it was obvious that was exactly what Inui wanted him to do. He glanced over at the nervous Shishido and the befuddled Ohtori and made a command decision. "Go back to work," he said to them. "I'll go check with Yukimura."

Inui was tempted to pick up the current volume and throw it at Yanagi's head. Or steal it. Then maybe Yanagi would want it back enough to read it. That particular option had a very nice feel to it and he resolved to do it the moment Yanagi's back was turned, "Yes. Please do, Renji."

Ohtori eyed Inui's twitchings with some interest. The demon was up to something. He prepared himself to beam.

Shishido, though, merely groaned. Things were getting _interesting_, and he was stuck reading about the creation of the first tax code. Hell had nothing on this.

* * *

The way to Sengoku's secondary hiding place (his office being his first, considering that a person could get lost easily in those shelves and had in times past) was amazing simple. Just pop down to earth, hang a left at the first star, and straight on till mo wrong story, similar directions. Tezuka materialized in the mango orchard, looked around to get his bearings, and took a left past the first tree and went straight until experience, and a tingling behind his eyes, informed him he should stop.

Tezuka looked up, squinting a little to catch sight of the other archangel through the leaves, feeling an acute sense of dejavu. Sengoku shifted slightly to reveal himself and looked down, garden green eyes meeting ice blue, "Tezuka," a pause, "and Fuji."

Fuji, whose upset had worked past the initial rage, smiled up at the insouciant archangel. "The new and improved version," he said, beaming with heavenly light.

"Very sparkly," Sengoku observed, looking vastly entertained by the notion of Fuji as an angel.

Fuji wrapped a hand in Tezuka's rather limp one. "I finally decided to declare my love for Kunimitsu!" he announced proudly.

Tezuka's was very tempted to pry his hand free with a stick and did the moment that Sengoku decided to slide off a tree limb and drop to the one lower down, smirking wildly. "Does this mean I get to be the best man at the wedding?"

"Unless Atobe insists," Fuji replied. "Kunimitsu is ever so close to him." The saucy smile glittered a bit as he glanced at Tezuka. Sometimes it would be nice to deal with Sengoku directly, but showing up and demanding something flat-out never worked. The game had to be played by the rules, no matter how upset Fuji was personally.

Tezuka made his equivalent of a grumble. "Can you just scream at him and get it over with?" The last place he wanted to be was in between the two of them.

Sengoku's eyes wobbled, suddenly full of faux tears. "Fuji-kun wants to scream at me? What did I do!"

"It's what you didn't do," Fuji replied pleasantly, reclaiming Tezuka's hand and squeezing a bit to let out a little of his anger. "Why is Kirihara still alive?"

"Because no one's tried to kill him yet?" was the ever so innocent reply.

Tezuka flexed his fingers in the hopes of getting some blood back into them.

Fuji's grip tightened again, and had Tezuka been human, there would have been the sound of breaking bones. "And why would that be?"

"Maybe because no one's volunteering to do it?" Sengoku continued to smile down at them brightly, though his smile vanished briefly at the face Tezuka was making at having his hand crushed into pulp. A distinct line seemed to be forming between Tezuka's eyebrows.

"I seem to recall someone promising to do it himself," Fuji answered, his smile predatory now. "Since I rather had my hands tied, I thought someone was going to take care of it... and now my brother's dead - again."

"And being reborn. Let's not forget that." Sengoku distinctly recalled that he had been "planning" to do it himself. Not the same as promising at all. He loved semantics.

Tezuka however, felt the need to interrupt, "Let go of my hand, Fuji."

Fuji looked down and saw Tezuka's fingertips turning blue. "Sorry," he said, leaning over to brush a kiss on Tezuka's cheek before turning back to Sengoku. "He killed a mortal right in front of you, and you let him get away with it," Fuji said slowly, enunciating each word clearly. "It doesn't matter if Yuuta will be back, the point is _you let someone harm him."_

"I can hardly stop him from doing something. Just like I can't stop _you_ from doing something or stop Yukimura. Short of taking away your free will, that is, which is _also_ against the rules." Sengoku merrily skipped over the fact that he had been putting into motion a teleportation at the moment of Kirihara's little trick and standing between planes was hardly conducive to being able to affect either of them.

Tezuka nearly twitched an eyebrow. Apologies but Fuji still hadn't let go. Just more empty words. He wanted his fingers back and he wanted them back _now_. To that end he shot a very sharp spark of power through them in the hopes of getting Fuji off of him.

Fuji blinked a bit at the sudden surge, his grip twitching but still firm. He glanced at Tezuka again, noting the irritation that was about to erupt and wisely let go. It wasn't worth fighting over. "And when have rules ever concerned you?" he shot at Sengoku instead.

The crease between Tezuka's eyes smoothed as he flexed his fingers to get the blood flowing back through them. Finally. Freedom.

"I have played very precisely by the rules, Fuji. If you hadn't noticed, which surprises me just a little."

"I don't recall angels fucking devils to be in the rules. If you had left Kirihara alone, this would not be an issue right now," Fuji returned.

"It wouldn't be an issue if Inui had left Kirihara alone."

"Inui?"

"You do remember Inui, right? Your former subordinate? One of the ones you let wander about unsupervised while you gallivanted to earth to poke your nose in both I and Tezuka's business? The subordinate who decided to _tell_ Kirihara who he was the rebirth of? Does that particular Inui ring a bell to you?"

Fuji's power being crackling. "I'm going to kill him."

"I think you would have to go through Satan to do that ... since he's probably going to use him as bait." If Sengoku wasn't an angel, he would be sorely tempted to just have kept that little bit of insight to himself and let Fuji go off and get himself into trouble.

He sighed and Tezuka sighed along with him, having thought somewhat the same thing. Tezuka elbowed Fuji not so subtly in the side to distract him.

Fuji took a deep breathe, and then another as he tried to calm himself down. "I want you to know I hold you responsible, no matter what happens. He's your boyfriend, so _fix this damned mess._"

"Just so long as you realize that I hold you responsible for deliberately unbalancing things with your little rising trick, and don't think that I'm going to forget that either," Sengoku shot back, sharper than he meant to, which caused the tree to promptly burst into flames as his power fluctuated madly for a moment before settling. If Fuji hadn't been standing there, Sengoku would have then beaten his head against the tree trunk in sheer annoyance, but he was there, so Sengoku just sighed again and slid himself out of the tree.

Tezuka started, not used to Sengoku showing anything more than the barest of teleportation skills, and immediately put the fire out, leaving the tree a smoking husk.

"Tsk, tsk," Fuji chided. "At least I'm not a walking timebomb."

"I think me being a timebomb is the least of your worries."

"Maybe - but unless you sort this out..." The threat trailed off.

"You'll what? Bite my kneecaps off?"

The grin toward malicious. "I think I can reach a little bit higher."

Sengoku sniffed, "It'll grow back." 


	16. Forces of Darkness and a Comfy Chair

** Paved with Good Intentions**

by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 16 Summary: In which the authors indulge.

* * *

_Part 16: Forces of Darkness and a Comfy Chair _

Classes had been canceled for the day by the university, but Sakaki had made it clear that his class was still meeting "unofficially." Which meant all his students pretty much had their asses in their chairs... with a few notable exceptions.

Kirihara and Sengoku were nowhere to be seen, which caused Tachibana a bit of concern. They were an odd pair, but he firmly believed he'd done the right thing by assigning Sengoku to aid Kirihara. They just fit well, to his well-organized mind.

Also missing was Mizuki... for obvious reasons. With the absence of the fourth person, it was understandable. They'd only held Yuuta's funeral the day before, so even Sakaki was inclined to cut him a little slack and allow an extra absence.

To Saeki, sitting quietly behind Kamio and tapping his pencil idly against his tablet, things felt ominous. Yuuta's death and the absence of the troublesome twosome had sealed irrevocably in Saeki's mind the idea that the workings of the divine had a hand in this ... and if the divine had a hand in the death of Yuuta, then it might mean bad news for him too. He was pretty sure making deals with the devil would put him somewhere on the heavenly shit list.

Completely oblivious to the tension, Kamio diligently scribbled down notes as Sakaki lectured. He hadn't been that fond of Yuuta, and while he wasn't a cruel person, a very small part of him was glad for the absence of four of the main sources of stress in his life. He couldn't admit it, but he'd learned more in the last twenty minutes of uninterrupted class time than the last week. It was oddly peaceful, in a way.

It was doomed to stop being peaceful, though, since fate had it in for Kamio. The door to the classroom banged open and Mizuki marched in, looking wildly around while shrieking for Kirihara and Sengoku. The normally well-kept boy was completely disheveled in a funeral suit that looked like he had slept in it and hair falling limply around his ears, proving that he did indeed style it to get those sleek curls.

Tachibana calmly stepped in front of Mizuki, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Mizuki-kun, perhaps it would be best if I took you home," he offered, well-aware of the glare of annoyance Sakaki was leveling on them.

Mizuki drew himself up, "I don't /want/ to go home. I /want/ to find the one responsible for Yuuta's ... for Yuuta's ..." he floundered, unable to actually say it.

Kamio looked up as Tachibana took Mizuki by both shoulders. Sakaki was starting to tap his foot in an impatient manner, and class time was being lost. "Mizuki-kun, it was an accident," Tachibana said softly. "It's too bad he had a weak heart, but-"

"He didn't have a weak heart!" Mizuki cut in, "Kirihara killed him!"

Saeki focused in on Mizuki like he was water in a desert. A demon killed off another demon who happened to be the brother's devil ... that was ... not good. Was it infighting in the hellish ranks?

Tachibana's voice was soothing. "Mizuki-kun, the autopsy said it was a congenital heart failure..." He didn't know why Mizuki was accusing Kirihara of all people, but the bereaved had been known to do stranger things. With the suddenness of Yuuta's loss, he knew Mizuki probably was in shock.

"But he was smiling when he did it ... " Mizuki whispered, unable to open his mouth and say he had watched Kirihara and Sengoku appear and disappear like ghosts, heard Yuuta call himself a mortal as if the other two /weren't/ ... but it was too much to say and he hardly believed it himself. He sagged in Tachibana's grip, all the energy suddenly just sucked out of him.

Tachibana gave Sakaki a look, before turning to Saeki and Kamio. "Help me," he said.

Kamio gave him a somewhat frustrated sigh, but shoved his book and notes into his handy-dandy backpack. He really didn't like Mizuki, but he was so pitiful right now... "What do you need?" he asked.

"We're going to take him home... Saeki, you know where he lives, right?" he asked as Kamio came to stand on the other side of the shell-shocked Mizuki.

Saeki sighed as well, shoving his own books into his bag and moving down the isle to join them, "Yeah, it's just down the way from ... yeah."

Mizuki blinked at Saeki and Kamio somewhat dumbly, prepared to be led where they would lead him, though he did manage to summon a sniff just for Saeki.

"I'll do some extra tutoring later if they have problems," Tachibana said to Sakaki before helping Mizuki out of the room, a rather annoyed Kamio supporting him on his other side.

Since they were doing all the hard work, Saeki held some doors open for them along the way to Mizuki's dorm room. It too was in a state of minor neglect and Saeki was somewhat surprised to note that Mizuki had actually given a shit about Yuuta. He would have laid odds that he hadn't ...

Tachibana glanced around the untidy room, depressive through lack of light. Kamio, just about to duck out of there, winced inside when he saw the concerned look Tachibana was wearing. He knew that look too well. Tachibana was about to become involved, and drag him in as well.

Sure enough... "Mizuki-kun, when's the last time you ate?"

Mizuki looked up from where he had sagged on the couch, "Yesterday, I guess ... before the funeral."

Kamio sighed, knowing what Tachibana was about to ask him to do. "Pizza sound alright?" he asked his mentor.

Tachibana nodded, pulling out his wallet. "Order three - that should be enough."

"Make one with onions," Saeki said, shamelessly flipping through the things Mizuki had spread out on his desk. The Bible, books on UFOs, spirits and mysticism ... he calmly closed them all and started stacking them, prepared to put them where neither Tachibana or Kamio would notice them.

Kamio grabbed his cell and stepped out into the hallway to make the order. Anything to get away from Mizuki, who reminded him of an abused puppy at the moment.

Mizuki rested his chin in a palm, staring listlessly at the floor while waiting for the whole debacle to be over so he could research (stare at the walls and think vengeful thoughts) in peace away from this sudden influx of well-wishers (heathens of the worst kind who didn't bother to listen to him when he was telling the truth).

Tachibana looked around the room, then looked at Saeki. "Help me pick up," he said softly. "Discretely."

Since this gave him the perfect opportunity to not only find out what other damning evidence Mizuki had lying around, but also to poke through his things, Saeki merely nodded and went about the work of picking up, watching the dull-eyed Mizuki out of the corner of his own sharp blue eyes.

Tachibana, ever the sympathetic listener, used the opportunity to sit down beside the traumatized youth. "Mizuki, is there anything we can do for you?" He placed his hand on Mizuki's knee in a comforting fashion.

"Not unless you intend to help me find Kirihara."

Tachibana wondered about the fixation with Kirihara. As far as he could tell, Kirihara had little to do with Mizuki, except for the occasional teasing. Certainly nothing to warrant Mizuki's belief he was somehow involved in Yuuta's death. Kamio would have been a better candidate, if Mizuki wanted to lash out.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now, Mizuki should be humored as long as it wasn't hurting anyone. "He's probably in his dorm," he said.

"Not anymore. I already looked there," Mizuki replied. Kirihara hadn't been there for quite a while, from what Mizuki could gather. Sengoku had vanished off the face of the college as well ... though research had indicated that he had never actually been signed up for a dorm in the first place.

"Did you leave him a message on his board?" Tachibana asked, referring to the whiteboards which were staples of college life.

"I did, but he hasn't been back."

"Did you check with his friends?"

"He doesn't have friends."

Normally Tachibana would chide Mizuki for his rudeness, but since he was so delicate... "Ask Sengoku? He tutors him."

"I can't find Sengoku either."

Troublesome indeed. "I know I shouldn't offer, but I probably can arrange for you to contact him at home..." As a TA, he had access to that kind of information from Sakaki, since Sakaki trusted him with everything.

Saeki idly wondered if divine beings actually had earthly addresses while Mizuki looked up at Tachibana hopefully, "You can?"

"I shouldn't, but..." Tachibana said hesitantly, then shrugged it off. "I think it'd be better for you to resolve your issues with Kirihara."

Oh, Mizuki intended to resolve his issues alright -- right through Kirihara's bloodless heart.

* * *

Kirihara was feeling rather good about himself after killing Yuuta. Wouldn't _that_ just piss Fuji off? And the fact that Yuuta deserved it and he'd done it in front of Sengoku... simply too wonderful. He would have been humming, but a part of him was still miserable and unsatisfied.

Which meant it was time to share the misery.

For Kirihara, summoning Inui was simple. He merely closed his eyes and concentrated on the band of power he'd hung around Inui like a noose, and _pulled._ It was strange to suddenly have access to these vast wells of power which he hadn't realized existed, but it was _right._ It felt like waking up after a long dream and realizing his body was his own to control.

Inui had been merrily attempting to make it blatantly obvious that Satan was alive and well by leaving books open to various pages that indicated just such a thing. He had just begun to feel a sense of accomplishment when the jerk on his noose brought him up short and snapped him through the metaphysical to Kirihara's side. He blinked and then nearly cowered, because it wasn't a good sign to be jerked into the presence of the Dark Lord.

It was probably a good thing he didn't move, because Kirihara has chosen the top of a Ferris wheel for this encounter. Of course, the Ferris wheel had mysteriously become rather stuck, and their rickety old cart swung back and forth 300 feet above the ground. The thing really should have been condemned, but had somehow passed its safety inspections, probably due to rather large amounts of money changing hands.

Inui used the fact that his glasses were reflective to look around without making it obvious that he was looking around. Of all the places to hold a meeting ...

Kirihara leaned back, causing the cart to sway precariously. "So, Inui-kun, anything interesting going on with your books?" he purred.

Inui latched firmly onto the rail. "Unfortunately no."

"Didn't think so," Kirihara said, waving them off. "Of course you're not going to find what you're looking for."

Inui's curiosity got the better of his wariness, "Why won't I?"

"You're really dumb, aren't you?"

Inui frowned but didn't retort, mainly because it would probably be a suicidal maneuver.

Kirihara rolled his eyes. "Sengoku probably has them. He's a secretive bastard."

Inui choked for a moment -- his brain still couldn't wrap itself around the concept of Sengoku presented by Kirihara -- before he smirked, "We thought he might have something to do with it."

"I bet you asked him if he knew what had happened to them instead of if he _had_ them."

Inui could only nod to that, since he suspected that was exactly what Yanagi had done ... and Sengoku could very neatly have sidestepped that kind of question.

"So, aside from wasting your time digging through books, what have you been doing?"

"I had been plotting to overthrow Fuji, of course."

Kirihara shook his head in mock disappointment. "As if I'd trust anything you came up with?"

"He is in heaven now, which does limit my ability to influence any attack on him."

"You seriously lack creative thought," Kirihara returned. Slightly bored, he created a water balloon and dropped it over the side, nailing the operator who had been trying to fix the ride. Leaning over slightly, he watched in satisfaction as the man collapsed, probably concussed.

"You are supposed to be the one directing /me, Lord, not the other way around," Inui sniped back before he thought about it and instantly regretted it.

The chain on Inui snapped as Kirihara's eyes flared up. "Do you want to rephrase that?"

Inui leaned back in a near-cringe, "I await your direction, Lord?"

"Good. Tell me about Yanagi... who is he closest to?"

"Yukimura, I believe. Or at least, that is who he works under."

"Does Yukimura trust him?" Beneath them, an emergency squad had arrived and started to yell promises that they would get the passengers down. Kirihara watched as the operator was carried away.

"Of course," Inui answered, with the air of duhness that indicated that one didn't need to ask that question when one was dealing with angels.

"Hmmm... well, I want you to tell Yanagi about my return, then." Kirihara smiled brilliantly. "I'm sure he'll relay it through proper channels."

Inui blinked, but nodded, "As you wish." Since that dovetailed nicely with what he had already been trying to do, he had absolutely no problems with it ... though he did wonder what Kirihara was up to.

Kirihara's smile widened a bit. "After you do that, you're to offer Yanagi any help he needs in preparing a plan to deal with me."

"So I can report the plan back to you?"

"Oh, I doubt he'll let anything important slip." The cart swayed as a child, not too far from the bottom, decided to just jump the ten feet... breaking both legs in the process.

Inui watched the proceedings with a degree of personal demonic glee, while at the same time marveling at how things just went /wrong/ in Kirihara's presence. (Inui was naturally envious of that kind of power.) He tipped his head to the side. "I'm to sabotage it then, if possible?"

"Of course not."

"Then why -- "

"That's for me to know." Kirihara rose to his feet, prompting outcries from the people below. "I suggest you get out of here, because this cart is about to fall off and kill three spectators..."

Inui didn't need to be told twice, vanishing from the cart with barely a puff of smoke. The faster he got his orders done, the faster he could watch and possibly take advantage of the fallout.

Kirihara smirked, knowing exactly what Inui was planning - and depending on it.

* * *

Any move of significance requires research into location, amenities, level of wear and tear, and the amount of loan that could be squeezed from the bank for the smallest interest possible. Naturally, Niou and Yagyuu were adept at the last of these researches and were seeking to brush up on the first three. Heaven had managed to impress Niou with the mini-bar function that worked on faith rather than direct payment (a sad loss of funds, in Yagyuu's opinion) but had been disinclined to inspect The Library until Yagyuu had insisted.

Personally, outside of the offices of finance, this was the place that Yagyuu could say that he missed the most while in hell. There was just something titillating about having all that knowledge at one's divine fingertips, ready for the penny-squeezing.

Perhaps Niou would have been happier if he'd known beforehand that Shishido was in. He'd always been rather fond of the vain creature, and he'd heard his personality had improved immensely after cutting his hair to show his remorse for all the evil he'd done. Yagyuu, who'd known both Ohtori and Shishido before his Fall, just didn't consider the possibility. Last he'd heard, Shishido was delivering messages for Atobe.

Last he heard was an entirely different matter from last what was actually happening and even Yagyuu had to smirk at the vision of Ohtori and Shishido surrounded by piles and piles of books while Shishido looked about ready to blow a fuse and Fall.

Niou looked at Yagyuu and nodded. With perfect symmetry, they moved to flank Shishido, carefully staying out of reach of Ohtori's Beam of Sickening Goodness. "Heya, Shishido-kun, whatcha reading?" Niou asked, leaning annoyingly over Shishido's shoulder.

Shishido slammed his hand over the book in self-defense. "Niou!"

"In the metaflesh," Niou said, resting his hand on Shishido's shoulder as he stared at the book.

Ohtori startled, his Beam of Divine Destruction powering up in a flickering start, "Niou! Yagyuu-san! What are you doing here?"

Yagyuu upped the shine on his glasses in an effort to reflect the Beam, "Considering the benefits of Rising, of course."

Shishido made a gurgling sound. "You? Rise?" His own Rising had been a thing of much inner turmoil, and it seemed... tawdry... how clinically Yagyuu had spoken.

"Might be a nice change of pace," Niou said pleasantly.

"In this era of turmoil and spiritual deprivation," Yagyuu added, prepared to provide Niou with all the resources necessary to make a mockery of righteous drama.

Ohtori beamed at them, since frowning might have made them too pleased with themselves, "Isn't that wonderful, Shishido-san? They're remembering the warmth of gods love!" He poured on the good will like no one had poured it on before, ready to open his arms to his fellow divine beings and BURN the evil from their souls.

Niou flinched, hiding behind Shishido. "We're not sure yet. Could you tone it down a few watts?"

"How could you be unsure? Isn't His love plain for all to see?" The smile Ohtori directed at Niou nearly scorched a line in the floor.

Yagyuu edged behind a stack of books for the sake of personal protection. He was pretty sure THOSE couldn't burn.

"We rather like defying him... in a rebellious child kind of way," Niou said.

Shishido buried his face in his hands, knowing Ohtori was about to become an Evangelist. It'd been what made him finally cave in the end, since hardly anyone could deny Ohtori's sincerity. It just wasn't pleasant to watch.

"I also prefer the rampant sex," Yagyuu added, just to pour salt in their wounds in the case that either angel was feeling a little frustrated.

"But sex isn't worth anything without love!" Ohtori protested, reaching out to pat Shishido's knee.

"So Shishido is actually Getting Some?" Niou asked curiously. "I thought..."

"Shut up!" Shishido snapped.

Yagyuu smirked. He had thought not, "Heaven turned out to be a little frustrating, Shishido? It must be quite difficult having come from hell ... " he couched this in conciliatory terms, lavishing his statement with false concern.

Shishido stared at them, wishing he could just strike them down. Ohtori, of course, was gazing at him with adoring concern. "Go away, we're busy!" he said harshly.

"Doing what?" Yagyuu asked, not to be driven off so easily.

Ohtori rubbed his fingers along Shishido's knee again, as if to soothe his counterpart, "We're doing research for Yanagi-san."

"What _kind_ of research?" Niou asked with interest.

"Stuff he's interested in," Shishido said, nudging Ohtori to keep him quiet.

Ohtori had opened his mouth to blab all the secrets of the universe until Shishido nudged him, at which point he gave Shishido a puzzled and somewhat mournful face (this was a face he had picked up from Sengoku and he found it especially useful in getting things he wanted from Shishido).

"You are making your boy toy unhappy," Yagyuu pointed out helpfully, picking up one of the books and flipping through it. It's not like Shishido actually had to /tell/ them what he was researching if the books were /right there/.

"He's not my boy toy!" Shishido clamped his hands over Ohtori's ears, anticipating a ribald conversation and intending to spare his innocence.

"You're his? Well, he is taller but I thought the height rule wouldn't apply since he wouldn't know the first thing to do with-" Niou's commentary was interrupted by Shishido summoning a anvil and dropping it on him a la Wiley E. Coyote.

Ohtori stuck his bottom lip out just enough to make it look shiny, "That wasn't very nice Shishido-san. You can hurt Niou-san."

Yagyuu smirked at Niou, pleased that he was being a proper distraction so he could read about the seventeenth flower that had appeared after the flood ... wait, flood? "Are you researching Satan?"

"Maybe." Shishido couldn't lie anymore, darnit, but he would stretch the truth! Satan had been involved in the missing books, after all...

"Hmmm, maybe heaven isn't being completely useless," Yagyuu murmured and continued to read.

Ohtori whipped his head around to focus on Yagyuu, causing the demon to dive behind the books in a very undignified fashion, "Heaven is useful for your happiness and salvation, Yagyuu-san! Don't you remember how wonderful it was?"

"It sucked," was the waspish reply of one forced to look foolish for running from the Burning Light of Grace.

"Then why all this fuss?" Shishido asked.

It was someone unexpected who spoke next. "I can answer that," Yanagi said.

Shishido jumped a bit, and Niou raised an eyebrow as Yanagi materialized on the top of a nearby bookshelf, a rather perturbed looking Inui sitting next to him. Niou exchanged looks with Yagyuu. "Care to enlighten them?" he asked dryly, knowing that Yanagi was about to spill the beans.

Ohtori looked up, curious now that both Yanagi and Inui had appeared on the shelves (Yanagi was a normal fixture there, Inui on the other hand, liked to slink between them). He idly wondered if they hadn't been spending a little time ... alone.

Inui focused his attention on Ohtori, who was probably the most dangerous one to his wellbeing in the room, and prepared to dive off the shelf if need be. "Satan is proving that he is as much of a moron as he ever was," was Inui's sharp little comment on the matter. It wasn't exactly true, but this far away from his lord and master he could release some of his bitterness without fear of reprisal.

"Satan _is_? Um... why are you using the present tense?" Shishido asked with a sinking feeling. That _would_ explain why Niou and Yagyuu were suddenly so interested in heaven...

"Probably because his reincarnation had a moment of self-actualization and is now creating mayhem," Niou said smoothly.

Ohtori sighed, "Oh shit," causing those around him to choke at the words that slipped easily from his lips. Ohtori blushed. "What? It's true!"

Shishido merely stared at his beloved. Ohtori swearing? Surely the Apocalypse had to be starting.

* * *

The throne of hell had been officially vacant for a very long time. It had also been thrown into a closet in the back of nowhere and forgotten, but with the anticipation of Satan's return running high, Dan had sent out a search party, retrieved the missing artifact in an expedition that rivaled the opening of the Pharaoh's tombs, and withdrew the leather recliner from darkness while seven minor devils choked on ancient dust and nearly expired on the spot. They also found twenty-seven Ping-Pong balls, three mummified frogs, a dinnerware set that seated seven hundred, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Dan sighed. Lucifer had been mercurial at best.

Needless to say, with the finding of the throne, Dan had ordered the grand hall to be dusted out, the throne to be reupholstered in the shiniest of new leathers and decked with a little gold gilt. Recliner it may be, but by the devil it would be the best recliner that ever leaned back and flipped out a foot rest.

With all these preparations complete and the grand hall finally looking like it had in the days when Hell had been more like a kingdom and less like a bureaucracy, Dan threw his weight around like he hadn't since Lucifer had sat on the throne and summoned the hellish minions from every corner of the globe to fill his newly cleaned great hall. Then he made them wait, because he was evil like that and anticipation made them antsy.

This was how Ryouma had ended up not seventeen feet from the throne, actually. He /had/ been near the back due to his age, but after the long wait, he had naturally begun wriggling his way to the fore for a better seat to see what all the commotion was about. Fuji no longer Lord of Hell? Perfect, really. It meant the way was finally open for /him/ to work on moving up.

A hand snagged his collar. "Where do you think you're going?" asked a rather annoyed devil. Kaidou Kaoru, a mid-level devil with more seniority than Ryouma cared to fathom, stared down at him.

"I wanted to look at the throne," he replied with definitive insolence in his voice. Not that a recliner actually deserved that name ...

"Know your place," Kaidou hissed, lifting Ryouma slightly so his feet were barely an inch off the floor. He'd heard Ryouma was a fast-rising star, but there was no way he'd tolerate any disrespect.

"I know it," he just chose to ignore it since he knew he was better at what he did than most of the demons that were currently populating the room, "I just wanted to see ... " and maybe get to sit on it ...

Kaidou snorted. "Just behave..." He wasn't sure exactly what was going on since his boss was mysteriously absence, but he was sure something momentous was about to happen.

"I'm a devil, I'm not supposed to behave," Ryouma retorted, staring up at the throne and the near-bouncing Dan with a hunger he managed to keep mostly to himself.

Kaidou would have told him that attitude would probably get him killed, but the sudden hush that fell over the crowd prevented him from speaking. Fire was starting to crackle near the throne, a sure sign that something was about to happen.

With a "boom!" that shook the walls, sending the artwork which Dan had so carefully supervised being hung crashing down, Satan appeared.

Confusion rose through the mass as they recognized who was standing on the podium. Kirihara Akaya, dressed in jeans and a pull-over sweatshirt, hands in his pockets, ran his eyes over the crowd. It seemed different than it had a few weeks ago - he could _See_ how much power his soon-to-be-minions possessed, and he could feel the throb of sheer _Evil_ thrumming through his body.

Dan clapped his hands and this time did bounce with glee, "Satan-san! You're back!"

The words of disbelief were out of Ryouma's mouth before he could recall them, "/You're/ the new Lord of Hell!" It wasn't that Kirihara didn't radiate sheer power, it was the fact that it was /Kirihara/ and he hadn't been radiating that power the /last/ time Ryouma had seen him.

Kirihara looked at Ryouma, and then his eyes flared. In less than a blink of the eye, Echizen Ryouma ceased to exist. "Any other questions?" he asked the stunned audience.

Kaidou stared at the spot Ryouma had been in. He'd _felt_ the other vanish from his grasp... like he was no more important than a bug.

Naturally, silence reigned. Dan pulled himself out of the sudden stillness that Ryouma's vanishing had pushed him into and snapped at the crowd, "Then get on your knees and bow!" following his own orders without compunction.

All things considered, the audience felt that it would best to follow Dan's lead ... since he had survived the first reign of Satan intact and probably knew what the hell he was doing.

Dan knew what he was doing all right, he was being a good little minion of a demon just long enough to keep Satan happy before he ran screaming to Sengoku-san. 


	17. Hell Hath no Fury

** Paved with Good Intentions**  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 17 Summary: In which the characters get ready to rumble!

* * *

_Part 17: Hell Hath No Fury...  
_

It had been a long time since the three had gathered together. They'd met individually, of course, but for some reason or another, they'd never managed to get together for cakes and cookies like they'd always said they would. Smooch, smooch, let's do lunch, and that of course never happened.

The room was set deep underneath a mountain, and locked with an age clause. Only those who had seen humanity come into existence would be able to enter. It was a tricky lock, and the only other eligible creature would have been Fuji, but he was wise enough not to mess with their affairs. The room was simple in a primitive way, with a table made of stone set in the center. Around it sat three wooden chairs, each carved elaborately with designs and caricatures.

And that was it.

Yukimura arrived first, since he was always prompt. He looked around their room with a touch of dismay, seeing inches of dust piled up. Waving a hand, he applied his all-purpose divine powers to restore it to its past pristine glory. He smiled a little before placing a basket of fruit in the center. The others would chip in with their own refreshments, but he wanted to make sure they had something healthy. Almost as an afterthought, he summoned three tankards of fresh water.

Dan skipped through the metaphysical lock shortly after Yukimura, wearing a cute little red hood and a basket full of booze. Bailey's Irish Creme was his favorite at the moment, so naturally it made up a significant portion of the basket, along with seven bottles of Euphrates wine that he had happened to dig up with the hellish throne. That stuff should be pretty damn good by this point if it hadn't managed to evaporate.

Chirping a hello to Yukimura, Dan shoved his basket onto the table, threw his cloak over the chair he claimed as his own and made a face at the reminder that as time passed, the number of chairs decreased until only three of the original council remained to stand judge on internal affairs. He also made a face at the _water_ and _fruit_ and summoned up some opium to combat such health and goodwill.

Yukimura sighed, shaking his head. "This was a lot more fun when I wasn't the only responsible person here," he said, finally taking his seat. The chair looked like it had been made out of a set of wings which gracefully arched to create a beautiful frame for Yukimura's frail beauty.

Dan smiled innocently, "You just have no appreciation for the finer things in life, Yukimura-kun," wrestling with a bottle of the Euphrates wine. The cork seemed to be stuck, glued down with ancient dust.

Sengoku slid out of the shadows and dropped the buffalo wings, potato skins, and cheese sticks (still in their take-out bag no less) onto the table while Dan was occupied with the cork. Spying the bottles, he scooped one up with undisguised glee, hugging it to his chest. "Euphrates wine! Dan, you're the demon of my heart! Oh, hi, Yukimura."

Yukimura just took an apple, quartering it neatly with a knife he'd created just for that purpose. He held out a piece to Sengoku. "Want some?"

"Can it be dipped in the wine?" Sengoku asked with a grin, beginning his own grand fight with the wine bottle in his possession as he flopped back into his seat. The chair appeared to be a dragon turned to wood, raising wings above Sengoku's shoulders and a seven-pointed crown above his head.

"Everything can be dipped in wine," Dan replied with a smirk, stealing the piece Yukimura had offered to Sengoku to demonstrate. "It's good!"

Yukimura gave them up as a lost cause. "Sengoku, why did you summon us?" he asked instead, deciding to get business underway.

Finally freeing his bottle from its cork prison, Sengoku took a generous swig of the wine before replying, "Dan can tell you, I just called the meeting for him."

Dan poured himself a glass before scrambling into his chair, which had a lot of claws and fangs and bloody bones for a bunny rabbit chair with such cute fuzzy ears. He looked very serious and old in the moment that he replied, "Kirihara-kun killed Ryouma-kun."

Yukimura frowned thoughtfully as he tried to place the name. "You mean Nanjiroh's spawn?"

Dan nodded. "He just did it, without any reason ... "

Yukimura thought carefully before replying. "Then he's like he was toward the end." He took a sip of water to moisten his suddenly dry throat.

"Yes ... " Sengoku sighed, swirling the contents of his bottle, which was suddenly not sufficient to cheer him up, "which means he'll have to be removed. I'll do it." With Yukimura damaged and Dan under oath, that really only left him.

"Sengoku, you can't mess around with this anymore," Yukimura warned. "He needs to be removed _now_, not when you feel tired of playing with him." He knew Sengoku's style, and easily saw through the weak promise

Dan made a face. "He'll only get worse, not better." In this matter, Dan spoke with the greatest experience, having actually been in hell when Satan was last enthroned there.

It was rare Yukimura was in full agreement with Dan. "I know you loved him, but Satan is not the angel he was when you knew him. If he starts out this crazy, there's no telling where he will go from there."

Sengoku sighed more heavily this time, resting his chin in his palm. It was unfortunately true. Last time he had let Satan nearly destroy the world before he did something, this time ... this time things were already beginning to fall out of alignment (though admittedly due mainly to Fuji) and they were only going to get worse. If only ...

"Challenge him for the throne," Dan said suddenly, figuring he could get Fuji kicked out for good if Sengoku went that route.

Sengoku blinked at him and smiled. "Challenge him, eh?"

Yukimura raced through the calculations. "It might not be a bad idea. It would restore the power imbalance between Heaven and Hell at the moment."

"Even though it will cause more future difficulty than I care to think about," Sengoku replied, though it was merely the prop up of an objection. The idea itself had merit, it was the cover up afterward that would be delicate.

"We can make sure you have our support," Yukimura said softly. The back of his chair started to glow as he prepared to official denounce Satan's existence.

The bunny ears twitched and began to glow as Dan bounced with glee, "Yay, this is going to be fun!"

* * *

Due the rearrangement of hellish authority, Kikumaru Eiji had to leave Oishi in the capable hands of the other drunks (after having left a very long line of jelly shots on the bar to keep Oishi busy hopefully long enough to keep him there and drunk until Eiji got back) while making that quick trip to hell for Satan's coronation.

Murphy's law being Murphy's law, though, the minute he vanished was the minute that Shinji oozed into the bar and made his way to a seat beside Oishi (who he didn't recognize right away in Oishi's drunken state) and snuck a jelly shot from the line and sucked it down.

Oishi blinked as he notice one - or was it two?- of the tiny glasses disappear. "Huh?" He blinked, realizing the person sitting next to him was vaguely familiar.

Shinji turned just enough to pretend he hadn't touched the shots, "Whatdoyouwant?" he mumbled, before blinking slowly at Oishi, finally recognizing him. Oishi? What was Oishi doing here? Oishi was supposed to be at The Lounge, which he was avoiding since he didn't want to see Oishi's concerned face when he dodged the question of how his recent love affairs had turned out.

"I want my glass back," Oishi answered.

"It's mine now," Shinji replied, stealing another glass. Oishi didn't need to be drinking, _he_ needed to be drinking.

Oishi, still not actually placing Shinji in his memory, made a clumsy grab to reclaim his cup. Unfortunately, alcohol had stolen most of his balance, so he ended up sprawled across Shinji's lap. Part of Shinji thought that was a very good place for Oishi and the same part compelled him to reach out and pat Oishi's bottom, which he did ... and was immediately aghast that he had just felt up _Oishi-san_... but it was a very nice bottom none the less...

Shinji held the cup out of reach and reiterated his 'no'.

Oishi blinked in surprised at being groped. His face turned a brilliant red and he tried to push himself out of Shinji's lap, but instead ended up putting his hands in some very interesting places.

Now it was Shinji's turn to go red as he squirmed a little under Oishi. "I don't think you should be touching someone there, Oishi-san, or they might want to go out with you ... except I already want to go out with you ... and you have a very nice ass ... oh wait, I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry Oishi-san."

The way the person was rambling actually registered. "Shinji-kun?" he whispered softly, turning over so he could see the mortal's face. "Is it you?"

Oishi burst into tears, wrapping his arms around Shinji's neck and pulling him over for a hug, which result in Shinji being awkwardly folded in half. "You're OKAY!" he said triumphantly. The rest of the bar paid them no mind, except for one pair of women who looked at the handsome men in appreciation.

Shinji startled, but the arms around his neck felt really, really nice and with his nose buried in Oishi's shoulder, he could smell liquor and Oishi (a very bright, fresh scent for someone who was drunk in a bar). "Of course I'm okay," he mumbled, "Did you think he was going to eat me ... well, okay, he ate me a little, but it was a really nice eating and the twins were so much fun together in bed but I was bored and they were caught up in each other, so I left ... "

"Twins?" Oishi echoed, totally disoriented.

"Uh? Oh, yeah ... there were these two boys who were twins and we were all in bed together. All those stories about twins were so right, even if they were a little fixated ... "

Oishi tried to cover his ears, but his hands ended up rubbing across Shinji's stomach in the process. Oishi blushed again, but he was so _comfortable_ that moving didn't seem like an option.

Shinji flushed and squirmed a little. Oishi was putting him in a very uncomfortable position on the one hand, and a very _nice_ one on the other ...

"Um... maybe I should go..." Oishi said, struggling to sit up.

"Go where?"

"Um..." Good point. He really didn't want to see Tezuka. "Um..."

Shinji flushed again and took a deep breath, "Youcancometomyplace," he said in one fast sentence, ignoring the fact that he shared his dorm room with Kamio.

"That's really kind of you," Oishi said with a happy smile. He dug some money out of his pocket and threw it on the table to cover the bill.

Shinji couldn't believe it, it was beyond his ability to comprehend that Oishi, _Oishi_, had just agreed to come home with him. He staggered to his feet only barely, an arm looping its way around Oishi's waist.

Oishi leaned into Shinji's side as they stumbled to the university. The other man was the perfect height for support, though he did seem to have problems going straight. Or was that Oishi's fault? He couldn't tell.

Whew, Oishi was heavier than he looked! Though Shinji couldn't complain about the way he was leaning on him or where he was allowed to put his hands ... Shinji was smiling an altogether silly smile by the time they had made it past the dorm elevator and into his room, where miraculously Kamio was absent. Shinji idly thought he might be out with the Tachibanas ... there had been some business about Mizuki and Yuuta's death, right?

Oishi looked around the cramped dorm room, noting that two distinct personalities lived there. One side was meticulously clean; the other was haphazard and rushed, with books and CDs scattered carelessly. To his surprise, Shinji moved him over to the cleaner side.

Lacking a couch or chair suitable to dump a drunk person on, Shinji was ever so happy to dump Oishi onto the bed instead and then plunk down beside him.

The bed was clean, and Oishi lay back, noting with interest that the room was still moving even though he was still. "Can you... not move?" he asked Shinji as the bed bounced slightly under his weight as Shinji shifted into a comfortable position.

Shinji squirmed a little closer so he could (delicately) loop an arm around Oishi's stomach before stilling, "Is your head spinning, Oishi-san?" It was possible, he had found Oishi drinking (of all things!) in a bar.

"No, but the room is. Can you make it stop?" Oishi asked rather pathetically.

"It'll be better if you close your eyes?"

Oishi would have nodded, but that would have made everything shake even more. Instead he leaned back so his head was propped on Shinji's thigh. "Better," he announced after a minute. Shinji was so _warm_...

Shinji was feeling that thrill of victory that men feel when they've managed not only to get a chick drunk, but get her into the back of their pickup for a quick shagging. Except Oishi wasn't a chick and they were actually on a bed, but the thrill was still the same. "Good." He ran his hand over the short, stubby hair on Oishi's head, pleased with the feel of it.

Oishi nearly purred. Shinji was so _relaxing..._ Turning slightly he snuggled in closer.

Shinji grinned at the wall. He was snuggling with Oishi! Victory was his! He slid a bit closer, moving his hands down Oishi's back instead.

It was a sign of how intoxicated Oishi was that he raised a hand to stroke Shinji's cheek with affection. Before he knew it, a pair of lips brushed across his forehead... and since it was only fair, he inched up slightly to pull Shinji's head down for a real kiss.

A simple kiss turned easily complicated with the addition of tongue, and then it wasn't fair just to have kissed only lips when there were other parts of the body needing attention, and then there were clothes in the way ...

* * *

Of all the archangel's offices, Yukimura's was the most comforting. In the corner burned a warming fire, crackling merrily with reassurance. The wood was a warm cherry, set on plush rugs that beckoned for people to take of their shoes and sink their feet in. Most of the furniture was comfortably overstuffed, with blankets thrown around. On the walls hung pictures of Yukimura's dearest people, with Sanada appearing in more than half. Sengoku and even Atobe also made appearances, and there was one lone shot Tezuka, looking at bit put out over being pictured.

Hiyoshi sighed as he felt the imminent arrival of his boss. Yukimura always gave him a minute's notice so the necessary preparations could be made. He stepped into the next room, grabbing a pair of ovenmitts so he could pull a tray of chocolate chips out of the oven. It was tradition; all comers to Yukimura's domain were immediately offered fresh cookies and tea, or even hot chocolate if they preferred. It was a bit trying for Hiyoshi, since he was the one stuck doing the baking.

The doorbell rang, and Hiyoshi set the tray on a cooling rack, hastening to answer. When he opened the door, he winced a little when he saw who was standing beside Yukimura. However, he was required to show perfect courtesy, so he forced a smile to his face, one which looked more like a grimace. "Welcome home, Yukimura-san. Would your guest like to join us for a snack?" he practically growled.

"Hiyoshi-kun!" Sengoku caroled, taking the message on Hiyoshi's apron as a direct order as he pounced upon and planted a big fat smooch on the side of Hiyoshi's cheek. He'd long ago learned that going for the lips ended up in him getting bit.

Hiyoshi flushed as he realized he'd forgotten to take off the "Kiss the Cook" apron. Stepping to the side (and in the process stepping on Sengoku's foot), he motioned for Sengoku and Yukimura to come in. "I'll bring in cookies and tea," he said.

Yukimura smiled at him. "That would be wonderful, Wakashi-kun."

While Hiyoshi was getting the cookies, Sengoku found a chair with the proper amount of sprawling plush and enough pillow to throw if the opportunity arose to throw pillows, and settled down. A glance at the walls reminded him that the Tezuka picture was still his favorite, since it had captured the Tezuka that Sengoku happened to be most acquainted with -- the put-out one.

Yukimura declined the cookies, but took a cup of green tea. "Wakashi-kun, could you go get me some parchment? I think I have an ink jar and brush in here..."

"Second drawer on the right," Hiyoshi announced, looking puzzled. It wasn't time for Yukimura to be sending any thank-you cards, and he usually used a fountain pen for everything else. He headed to the storage closet to get the requested goods.

"I still think we should have just bought the cheap Hallmark rip-offs from Wal-Mart," Sengoku commented around a mouthful of cookie. A person didn't pass up Hiyoshi's divine baking. Ever. No way. It was like, the only reason to _visit_ Yukimura.

"We need to do this right. We don't want to have to have to throw the results out on a technicality."

Sengoku rolled his eyes. Like the technicality would actually matter if he won ... while it would be ever so useful if Kirihara won.

Hiyoshi, ever efficient, returned in a second carrying two parchment scrolls, along with a chunk of sealing wax. He placed them both on the desk. "Your seal is in your top drawer, in case you need it," he said, before darting out the door. He really didn't want to hang around Sengoku anymore than he had to.

Yukimura watched him depart with amusement and fondness. "He's forever anticipating me." Digging into his desk, he produced the ink and brush. "Your handwriting is rather poor, so I'll write."

"Just because I like to put the little squiggles between every other letter does not mean my handwriting is poor," Sengoku replied with faux affront.

Yukimura merely opened the bottle, not surprised that it was still good despite not using it in a decade. Hiyoshi was always on top of things. He dipped the brush in, and smiled. "Any idea what you want this to say?"

Sengoku tipped his head to the side as he considered it, "Dear Kirihara, meet me at out math class for a smack-down, drag-out fight. Love, Sengoku. PS: Your ass is mine. PPS: I laugh at your ability to show up on time." 

Yukimura sighed and began to write. "To Kirihara Akaya, formally known as Satan, and currently Lord of Hell: I, Sengoku Kiyosumi, archangel of heaven, hereby challenge you to a duel for the Lordship of Hell as of the 10 a.m., tomorrow. I will be waiting for you in math class. Let the victor claim the spoils of his efforts," he said as he scribbled.

"I _suppose_ that keeps the spirit of my message." Yukimura sucked all the joy out of writing correspondence.

"Come over here and sign this," Yukimura ordered. "Do not accentuate your signature with any kind of smiley face, doodle or colored ink. Do not add a P.S. Just place your legal signature."

Sengoku managed to look incredibly put-upon. "Do I have to write the whole thing or can I just write the basic part?"

_"Kiyosumi."_

"Fine, fine," Sengoku gave up and came over to take up the brush, very carefully inscribing his legal signature. It took over three feet of the roll and Sengoku made sure to whimper pathetically during the entire trial of the unwieldy thing.

Yukimura shook his head in amusement as Sengoku finally stopped whimpering. Glancing over the parchment, he was satisfied it would work. "We'll just need a second for the ink to dry." He took another sip of tea. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Yukimura fully planned on making Sengoku go through with it either way, but it would be nice to hear his thoughts.

"Does it matter if I want to or not?" Sengoku asked, escaping the proximity of the formal note to flop back on his chosen chair. "It'll work."

"It'd better. If Kirihara somehow manages to win..." Yukimura trailed off. The thought gave him a headache, one which could only be soothed by a judicious amount of chocolate. He levitated the plate of cookies over and grabbed the largest one, biting down on it forcefully.

"He won't," if there was anything Sengoku had confidence in, it was his ability to be incredibly dubious.

Yukimura touched the ink carefully to test it, then rolled the scroll. He took the lump of wax and held it out to Sengoku.

Sengoku accepted the wax and snapped his fingers to create a flame, holding it beneath the end of the wax until it dribbled to his satisfaction. He upended it onto the scroll before setting it aside, leaning in to press his lips to the melted wax, smoke rising at the meeting. He pulled back and handed the scroll back to Yukimura, content in the knowledge that his seal, nearly as elaborate as his signature, had been properly affixed.

With a snap of his power, Yukimura summoned Hiyoshi, who wore a scowl as he re-entered the room. "I have something I need you to deliver," he said.

"What?"

"Go to hell and give this to Kabaji Munehiro. I think he's still Kirihara's secretary," Yukimura said, proffering the scroll.

Hiyoshi stared at it with distaste, but accepted it. "Anything else?"

"I'd love it if you picked up some Belgian chocolates on your way back, please?"

Hiyoshi nodded jerkily, vanishing before Sengoku could chime in.

"He never lets me get a word in edgewise," Sengoku mused with a grin.

"Probably because he knows you." Yukimura studied Sengoku with a pensive expression. "I feel like I should wish you luck or something, but..." he hesitated. "I've rather enjoyed having you work with me. I'll miss you."

Sengoku waved a hand and flashed a grin, "Neh, I'll be back before you know it."

Yukimura looked at the warm green eyes, dreading how Sengoku would be the next time they met. An evil Sengoku wasn't anything he'd ever wanted to see again, but it seemed like they'd been left with no choice.

* * *

It was a bright, sunny day outside, but once again Sakaki Tarou's math class was indoors, exploring the wonders of numbers.

The class seemed a bit depleted. Yuuta's absence was obvious, but Sengoku and Kirihara had been missing ever since that day, earning an automatic failing mark. It worried Tachibana, since when he'd tried to track down Kirihara's information, he'd run into numerous dead ends. There apparently _was_ no student named Kirihara Akaya enrolled, although he had a dorm and was on the class rosters. No medical records, no transcript, nothing. On a hunch, he'd checked out Sengoku's folders and found a similar lapse in knowledge. The emergency phone number Kirihara had given to Sakaki had actually been a sex line, and Sengoku's had led to a furniture store.

It made him wonder, just a bit, if Mizuki might have been telling the truth.

Mizuki was present, but was lacking his usual gay flair, which had been replaced with a frenetic focus to _complete_ the class. Unknown to the rest of them, he intended to not only finish college with perfect grades, but to use his knowledge to track Kirihara and get rid of him.

While Mizuki had thrown himself into his studies, Saeki still dabbled enough to keep up with him, now ever watching him from a distance to find out what he was doing, what he was up to, and to hide any evidence he happened to leave behind.

Kamio, the last member of their dysfunctional study group, was actually worried by Mizuki's sudden fervor. He'd always wanted his partners to work, but he found he missed the flamboyant gayness of the other man, missed his and Saeki's bickering, even missed Sengoku and Kirihara's snipes. Most of all, he missed Yuuta, with his naivete that belied a kind soul.

Sengoku popped out of the shadows by the door (making it look like he had possibly used the door, but did no such thing) and crept commando style across the back of the room, oozed down the aisle, and slipped into his seat, putting his feet up on the back of Yuuta's empty seat. It _was_ class time, so he caused a notebook to come into existence and started scribbling.

It only took a moment for Tachibana to notice him. Sakaki probably did as well, but it would take an Apocalypse to stop him from teaching.

It's a pity that was what was about to be discussed.

Tachibana raised an eyebrow from the chair on the side he was sitting in. With a slight sigh, he rose to his feet and moved through the class, intending on pulling Sengoku aside and discussing exactly what his status was.

Sengoku saw him coming and gave him a wave. It didn't take a genius to realize that one of many possible reasons (not the least of which was accessory to murder and missing class -- the second being the more mortal crime) compelled Tachibana to approach.

Tachibana placed a gentle hand on Sengoku's shoulder, jerking his head slightly to indicate that he wanted Sengoku to follow. Giving up the human right to wait in a quiet manner, Sengoku shrugged, dropped the notebook on the seat and stood to follow him, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Sengoku-san, I'm sorry, but you've recorded six absences. I'm afraid that Sakaki-sensei has already removed you from the class list."

Sengoku gave Tachibana his most mournful eyes. "Aww, and it was such a fun class too."

From most students, Tachibana would have thought it was heavy sarcasm, but Sengoku has always taken a peculiar like to the work. "You can always re-matriculate next semester. If you need it for a core requirement, I'd like to suggest you do so, instead of waiting."

Math was a balance of equations and Sengoku was the master of all things balance-able, so they were comfortable with one another. "I may just do that ... " Sengoku answered, tipping his head slightly to the side. There was always the business of watching Tachibana after all, no matter the outcome of the day.

Tachibana smiled at him gently. "You can still survey this class right now, if you want, but it might be-"

_"BOOM!"_

The entire class braced themselves as the room shook. In the front, Sakaki managed to catch the podium to support himself, but Tachibana, who'd been standing, went sprawling. He hit the floor hard, then rolled down the stairs a bit before coming to a stop right beside Kamio.

Sengoku rocked on his heels and looked around for the obvious perpetrator.

Kirihara ignored all rules and materialized in front of the room in a flash of fire. "Oops, am I late for class?" he asked sweetly.

"Did you _have_ to wait until I was getting my ass chewed for absences? Can't you ever wait your turn?" Sengoku replied while shaking a fist.

"I've never been very good at the patience thing," Kirihara said, glancing around with a bit of interest. The place looked different through his heightened powers, and he immediately settled on Tachibana. "You know, you had me going about Shinji being a focus. Now..." he walked up the aisle to where Tachibana watched, clutching his knee in pain.

"What can I say? Misdirection is my forte," Sengoku replied with a shrug, making a rippling motion with his hand. The earth responded in kind as the steps rippled, sliding Tachibana back up to Sengoku in one smooth roll.

Sakaki finally found his voice. "Just what do you delinquents think you're up to?" he demanded, coming around from behind his podium. "You're no longer members of this class-"

Kirihara smiled, and suddenly Sakaki was a pillar of flame. His screams rang out for a long minute before the flames finished, leaving a pile of ash in its wake. "Ahhh, so satisfying!" he announced.

"Argh, stop doing that," Sengoku snapped, making the air crackle, "The mortals are off limits!"

"I've never had limits," Kirihara replied.

The class was watching in stunned horror, and Kamio started to inch toward the door. He had no clue what was going on, but he could tell from the flames in Kirihara's eyes that he was in way over his head.

Mizuki stared at Kirihara with pure hatred in his eyes and announced in a huff, "I told you all he killed Yuuta-kun!" His resolve to eliminate the demon faltered in the face of that much power, though.

Saeki nearly jerked, lunging forward to slap a hand over Mizuki's mouth to keep him from saying anything inflammatory that might make Kirihara decide to make _Mizuki_ inflammatory.

Kirihara turned to look at Mizuki, raising an eyebrow. "You have something you want to say?" he asked.

Mizuki did, but Saeki was kind of cutting of his air as he nearly strangled him to keep him quiet. "Not a thing," Saeki managed to say with something resembling his usual aplomb.

"Always knew you were a smart one," Kirihara said approvingly.

"I think he wanted to say that you're a rat bastard for killing his lover and he wishes you would die?" Sengoku filled it helpfully, mainly to bring Kirihara's attention back to himself.

"You're going to be the one dying," Kirihara returned. "I finally remembered _exactly_ why I despise you." His hands clenched at his sides, and power flared around him dangerously. For Saeki, who was mildly psychic, it must have been like staring at a supernova. For the others, there was the sense of electricity racing through the air.

Sengoku wagged his finger. "Tsk, tsk, we should do this in the proper forms to preserve all that gobbledy gook known as tradition. Here, I'll even start first." Sengoku placed his hand over his heart for the hell of it, "I, Sengoku Kiyosumi, archangel of heaven, also known as Lucifer, the Serpent, the Dragon, the Damner of All Mankind," Tiamat, the Midgard Serpent, Quetzalcoatl, Sobek, and a thousand other names in a thousand other ancient tales, "challenge you, Kirihara Akaya, for the throne of hell." It was a very comfy recliner and he happened to want it back since he'd had to ditch it on his ascension to heaven. Sengoku chose not to manifest, however, in defiance of the traditions. Being first, fairest, and brightest had the unfortunate side affect of blinding poor mortal eyes.

Saeki blinked when Sengoku showed no manifestation of any power whatsoever, though he secretly wondered (by the audacity of Sengoku's identity claim alone) if he had picked the wrong side in hooking up with Fuji. He also let go of poor Mizuki as he realized he was almost killing him.

The power of the ritual started to wrap around them both, and Kirihara licked his lips before letting out a laugh. "I, Kirihara Akaya, who was Satan, and am current Lord of Hell, accept. As the challenged, I set the end point as death," he said. "As for the game... we'll use this class."

"Poor math class, you're going to put them into therapy for _years_."

"They won't survive either way." Clapping his hands sharply, Kirihara turned to stare at the students. "Listen, you chumps. Today's your Judgement Day." 


	18. In Which All is Explained kinda

** Paved with Good Intentions**  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 18 Summary: Fight! Flashback!

* * *

_Part 18: In Which All Is Explained (Kinda)_

It goes without saying that Fuji was interested in what was going to happen as Sengoku and Kirihara vied for his former position. So, like most other angels and devils in the know, he'd decided to watch via HBN (Heaven Broadcasting Network, which is where all intrepid reporters end up working, if they didn't sign up for _Heavenly Times_).

In preparation for this millennia event, Tezuka had opened the door to his 'private' quarters (a door that hadn't existed before Tezuka had decided to open it). Within the admittedly small room was a comfortable looking sofa chair attended by a small folding table for snacks which resided across from a very small black and white television set on a folding stand. Its antennae were contorted into nearly unholy positions in an effort to keep a reception. Tezuka had created himself a bowl of popcorn and was settling very comfortably into his chair in anticipation of the unfolding drama.

Fuji wasn't satisfied with the accommodations. With a derisive look at the 13 inch screen, he waved a hand, replacing it with a 60 inch flat screen, wiring the room for surround sound while he was at it.

Tezuka had only one comment for this, "You replaced my TV with an abomination."

"I merely upgraded you," Fuji said, coming around to sit by Tezuka. He mischievously snatched a handful of popcorn, tossing a few pieces into his mouth. "More butter..." and with another wave of his hand, he adjusted the popcorn to his satisfaction.

Tezuka calmly set the popcorn that had just been contaminated with the udder squeezings of a cow to the side and created himself a new bowl of untainted popcorn. The look he gave Fuji very clearly expressed his disgruntlement with the interference in his entertainment. "I was perfectly content with my black and white."

"But this is _better,_" Fuji replied. He leaned against Tezuka's shoulder, making himself comfortable.

Even more disgruntled by that, Tezuka made his chair expand into a couch, dropping Fuji onto the cushions.

Fuji managed to make it look intentional, inching over so his head rested on Tezuka's thigh. "Shhhhhh... the show is about to begin."

If he could have scooted to the side to get away, he would have. Who knows what evil Fuji might perpetrate with his head that close to ... yeah. Let's not think about that. Tezuka's lips curved downward in the faintest motion of a scowl, not willing to acknowledge that Fuji's television had a better picture (even if his television had been very comfortable for watching old westerns, an entertainment that Tezuka was very secretly fond of).

The picture was focused on a man teaching a class, where Sengoku and Kirihara were due to arrive. "I always hate-" Fuji started, but was interrupted by the door opening.

Momoshirou, with a rather flustered expression on his face, entered. His eyes widened as he saw the way Fuji and Tezuka were curled up together. "I'm sorry!" he started.

"Do not be," was Tezuka's flat reply. "Fuji was just moving himself. Weren't you, Fuji?" He gave Fuji's head a mild push with his fingers, ignoring how silky the hair actually was ... if he was lucky, Momoshirou would sit between them.

"Yes, I was." Fuji moved so he was more firmly situated, pinning Tezuka down with his weight. "What's up, Momo-kun?"

It was very hard for Momoshirou to suppress a shudder. It was just too weird to be addressed so familiarly by the former lord of hell. But he was an angel now, so... "Well, I was talking to Kawamura, who heard from Akutsu that there's going to be a battle between Kirihara and Sengoku-san!"

"We were preparing to watch it," Fuji said pleasantly.

"You may watch with us," Tezuka offered before tipping his head ever so slightly to the side. "What exactly did Akutsu say?"

"That Sengoku-san sent an invitation to Kirihara to settle things." Momoshirou plopped down on the sofa next to Fuji, who had his feet elevated. It was a big sofa, though, Momoshirou thought.

Tezuka was wondering what it would take to get Fuji off of him when Sengoku snuck his way into the room onscreen. In Tezuka's opinion, he could have snuck a bit more subtly. "I doubt he couched it in exactly those terms."

"Kawamura edited the profanity," Momoshirou said, picking up the bowl of popcorn Fuji had tinkered with and grabbing a large handful. "There was some garbage about a challenge for the Lordship of Hell, but Sengoku's an angel." He shoved the popcorn in his mouth, gaining chipmunk cheeks.

"It's not garbage. It's happening." Fuji watched as Sakaki was turned into a pillar of flame. "Ouch."

"Kirihara is seriously out of control," Tezuka observed, stating the obvious.

Fuji nodded. "Total God complex."

Momoshirou was about to ask another question when Sengoku said something to completely distract him.

_"I, Sengoku Kiyosumi, archangel of heaven, also known as Lucifer, the Serpent, the Dragon, the damner of all mankind, challenge you, Kirihara Akaya, for the throne of hell."_

"WHAT?" Momoshirou bellowed, turning white.

Fuji just stole the popcorn back by levitating it into his hands.

Tezuka also paled, fingers tightening around his bowl as the back of his eyes throbbed. Lucifer? Lucifer was dead ... he was _supposed_ to be dead ... except angels can't lie and even Sengoku wouldn't lie during a challenge like this ... and Sengoku _had_ been standing there when he opened his blurring eyes so long ago ... standing there and _smiling_ at him ...

Tezuka cleared his throat quietly and fished some popcorn out of his bowl.

"Didn't you kill Lucifer?" Momoshirou asked.

"I never killed him, he exploded on his own and the rest of you decided I killed him," Tezuka answered with amazing calmness. He had just thought Lucifer was dead and had never challenged the interpretation of events. 

Fuji just laughed, raising a hand to cover his eyes. "Like you thought any differently? I had a bet on with Yukimura over if you'd ever figure it out..."

"Whether I thought differently or not certainly didn't lead me to suspect _Sengoku_."

Fuji just shook his head. "It's that lack of creativity thing you have going on." He reached up to pet Tezuka's cheek consolingly.

Tezuka pushed his hand away. "Though it was certainly obvious that he was not particularly angelic when he was shooting people in the back during the war of the flood." That was the point that Tezuka had stopped looking to Sengoku for anything, even if the older angel had taken him under his wings after Lucifer's supposed defeat.

Momoshirou quietly watched as Fuji sat up slowly, his blue eyes wide open and an expressionless look on his face. "Tezuka, even if you lived to be twice your current age, you'll never reach half of Sengoku's knowledge or power. Don't question what you don't understand."

"I simply do not approve. Questioning him is hardly my concern." At least Fuji had gotten off his lap...

Momoshirou was itching to ask what had happened. "Um, Fuji-san?"

Fuji didn't answer, instead focusing on Tezuka. "Ignorance is bliss?" he asked Tezuka instead.

"It is certainly safer."

Fuji sighed, lying back down. Tezuka was so hopeless sometimes. "Look. It's about to begin," he said instead of arguing.

* * *

If Tezuka (or anyone with enough curiosity) managed to find time to search around Sengoku's office for the missing books, they would have been surprised to learn what only four beings aside from God still knew. The book propping open the closet was particularly interesting, because it was a rather revised version of Genesis.

If anyone had dared to rescue this book from the clutches of the evil closet monster of the many tentacles (also called Cthulu by mere mortals and worshipped by thousands), except no one was really _that_ brave ... and had opened this book to the shocking first page (not much extra exposition here since there wasn't much in the mortal realms to talk about), they would have been introduced to a garden not wholly unlike the one they imagine first existed ...

Where a woman in Godiva black hair strode through an orchard. Except she wasn't named Godiva. Instead they called her Eve.

The mother of humanity was a nice enough sort, if a bit oblivious. She was sincere in all she did, but sincerity really wasn't an excuse for lack of brains. Not that Adam had specifically requested brains, though. He was just lonely at the time and didn't care as long as his companion walked on two legs and didn't say 'ook'.

It was destined to be a problem.

When God created the universe, he started on a Monday. Maybe that's why there was so much ill-luck attached to the day. There were definitely times when he would later wish he'd never gotten out of bed on that fateful day. By the fifth day, he was ready to create something with intelligence, and he decided that a creature that looked rather like him, albeit with a few modifications, was a good idea. He'd already had some luck with angels, with the exception of that nasty incident where Lucifer had taken him a bit too literally and ended up fragmenting his race.

Lucifer was hell-bent on fragmenting this new race too, though he considered it to all be part of the greater divine plan. He was on a holy mission! A mission of evil and having lots and lots of fun. Mainly the fun and then hopefully the evil. Okay, so the evil first (there were a lot of angels who could be moles in a cosmic mole whacking game) because it was fun and then the fun for the fun. Ah, decisions, decisions.

So, needless to say, Lucifer snuck into the garden, the heart of new earth. He snuck in by literally flying under the radar in the form of a winged serpent, a wyvern (snakes were a fancier bunch back then). Since he'd done the hard part, all that was left was the easy part, getting the new humans to disobey the Great Lugnut In The Sky. It shouldn't be too hard. After he had invented sin, the angels had flocked to it like candy, and he didn't figure that the new race would be any different.

He had the fortune to see Eve, in all her unclad glory, staring with slight longing at the apple tree in the center of the garden. She'd been told she couldn't touch that tree, but like all children, forbidding something only made her want to do it more. Unfortunately, the apples all hung well out of her reach, and she wasn't about to climb a tree... she would probably get splinters in her tender ass. She'd discovered pain a couple days ago when Adam had accidentally pushed her into a rock, and wasn't eager to experience it again.

Lucifer the magical serpent slithered his way into the tree that she regarded with such desire and draped himself over a branch, wrapping his tail around it so he could drop the rest of himself down into her view with a sproing! "Hi!"

Eve had never met a talking snake. Actually, the only beings that had talked to her were God and Adam, so needless to say she was interested. "Hello," she replied. A hand reached up to poke him.

He flexed his wings for her and rubbed his head against her finger. It was best to luffle up the pretty ones. Then they were more easily manipulated.

She giggled. "Who are you?" The snakeskin was surprisingly smooth, and she scratched him under the chin.

Lucifer flicked a tongue out, having fun making the end whip about. "My name is Lucifer, what's yours?" Not that he didn't already know.

"I'm Eve."

"So what's a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this?" Someone had to say the world's first pick-up line.

Eve didn't know how to lie, so she told the truth. "I'm looking at the tree and wondering how those taste."

Lucifer sproinged himself around on his tail in an attempt to see the things that she was looking at. "Those red things?"

"Yes. They're pretty," she said. "You're pretty, too."

"Awww, look, you're making me blush!" Lucifer turned his skin red just for her.

She blushed as well. "I'm sorry, Lucifer."

"It's okay ... hey, did you want me to get them down for you?"

"I was told not to touch them..." she said. Of course she wanted one.

"Well, you don't have to touch them ... I can touch them."

"Well..." she looked hesitant. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"Sure. Would I lead you wrong?"

She offered him a brilliant smile. "I would appreciate it, then."

Lucifer fell off the branch and fluttered his way into the air, swooping around the tree a little before he decided on the juiciest looking apple there. He jerked it free with his claws and dropped down to hover in the air before her, offering it, "Here you go! Payment for transportation services will be a smooch ... I'll collect after you eat."

Carefully she leaned forward, taking a bite. Chew, chew... swallow... and then scream as she recognized the snake as something Not Nice.

"Mou, so cruel. And after all that hard work too... " Lucifer shed his serpent form like a snake sheds its skin, materializing as himself, bouncing the bitten apple on his palm. "Does this mean I don't get a kiss?" he asked innocently.

He got slapped instead. "You... you _bastard!_" she shrieked.

Lucifer rubbed his cheek and made wobbly eyes at her. "It was an innocent mistake ... how was I supposed to know you'd attack me after you ate it?"

She stomped on his foot, jiggling her breasts rather impressively. Then she stomped away, taking the apple with her. If she was going to suffer, so was Adam. After all, misery loved company.

"Ow!" Lucifer bounced around clutching his foot dramatically as she walked off. Ahhh, what a woman. Adam was a lucky man to have sole possession of those hooters. He looked up at the tree with amusement and reached up to pluck an apple (for later, maybe it was useful for multiple damnings on the angelic side) and slid back into serpent form to make an escape from the garden ... before God caught on and tried to stomp him.

As soon as he was back over the wall, a rather cute demon tackled him in an affectionate hug. "Lucy!"

Lucifer looped an arm around his associate and made a face. "Stop calling me that, what will the underlings say?" but his complaints didn't stop him from leaning down and playing tonsil-hockey with Satan.

It was sometimes hard to believe that Satan was the second oldest creature. He was still painfully innocent in some ways, despite taking a rather hard fall when Lucifer had opposed God. Still, he kissed with the experience of ages.

As much as having sex right there on the doorstep of Eden would stick a sharp stick into God's eye, Lucifer decided not to press his luck and wrenched them through the ephemeral to Hell's grand hall ... where anyone walking by could be scarred instead. "Mmmm, guess what I just did?"

"Something evil?" Satan always went for the obvious, even though time had proven Lucifer rarely did that.

"It certainly falls under the heading of evil," Lucifer replied, nipping Satan's nose. The other demon was just so damn cute. He was glad he'd managed to drag him down with him when he fell. "I just gave humanity its first metaphorical assfucking."

Satan pouted. He wasn't too fond of humanity, since it'd diverted God's attention from the fun and games the demons had planned. Really, why create humans when there were already angels?

Lucifer gave the pouting lips a lick. "Don't look like that ... just think of the _fun_ we're going to have with them!"

Satan perked up. "Really?" He wrapped his arms around Lucifer, pulling him closer so he could caress him in all sorts of fun places.

"Of course. It wouldn't be fair if God kept them all to himself now would it?" Lucifer replied with a grin, making his fingers sharpen into claws so he could rid Satan of those obnoxious clothes.

This first step with humanity was only the tip of the iceberg, the hundredth move in a plan. Lucifer always had a plan, often plans within plans. Just a couple more steps with the humans (he thought it might be especially entertaining to teach them his very favorite of sins, the one that got him tossed out of heaven ... murdering one's own brother) and it would be time for Hell's King to move off the board and allow the Queen to ravage the field.

All of those plans predicted Satan's loyalty. Back when God had created Lucifer, in a time so distant it boggles the mind, it hadn't taken long for God to decide his child needed a playmate - and thus Satan was born. For a while, they had no names, merely thinking of themselves as "me" and "not me." Their trust in each other was so deeply entwined in the fabric of their being, it had been a rude shock when Dan and Yamato had come along.

Upon the heels of Dan and Yamato had come other angels, sometimes one or two, sometimes a whole score ... until there were playmates by the hundreds and things had gotten pretty chaotic until Lucifer (he had finally needed a name after saying "me", "not me", "not me two", "not me three" had gotten insanely unwieldy) had proposed a generic plan of order: "Obey your elders ... you annoying little titches. Now get out of _my_ cloud and get lost before I zap you."

Age hierarchy was quickly established after that (especially after the first couple zappings) and was the government of choice ... until a whole new mess of angels headed up by Yukimura, Fuji, and Yuuta came into being in the finally settled heaven. Sides were drawn. Names were called. Someone threw a spoonful of yogurt at someone's head. All heaven was about to break loose ... so God created archangelic status.

There really wasn't any telling how God made the choices, since he ignored some of the oldest and went with two young upstarts called Michael and Gabriel. Yukimura was appointed as well, and it goes without saying that Lucifer made the cut.

Considering the obvious bias toward the young in the appointments, it's only natural that the older half of heaven who had gotten used to this age hierarchy thing were a bit pissy. Only Lucifer the eldest? How unfair! They murmured. They grumbled. They whined to Lucifer. (Or rather, they sent Dan to whine at him since Dan whined the best.)

Lucifer just smiled and said everything would be just fine, that he would fix things ... right before he turned around and gutted Gabriel without a second thought, caroling merrily that now there was an open place!

To say that Michael was pissed was an understatement and he was the one who not only cried for the removal of Lucifer from heaven, but was the one who attempted to throw him out. Lucifer was kicked out of heaven all right ... after killing Michael for having used the metal-toed boot instead of the soft leather one.

The elder angels revolted against the loss of their Eldest (while shaking a collective fist at the youngsters) and left heaven enmasse to follow Lucifer. It helped that he had been whispering all sorts of sweet seductions into their ears before he had axed off Gabriel too...

Satan hadn't followed because of that. He'd come because his "not me" had left, and he would have been lost without him. It would only be later that they realized how lost he was without Lucifer. It hadn't been Lucifer's fault, exactly, that Satan ended up being left behind, but he hadn't been completely innocent, either. Not that he was ever innocent, anymore.

Time in hell had changed them all, warping their belief system. If God was Love, the last thing allowed in Hell was that. Satan's affection for Lucifer was called "lust" and no one picked a fight over it. Satan was pretty powerful, and always willing to make someone else miserable if it made Lucifer happy.

Not that it was hard to make Lucifer happy as long as he had Satan around. Satan was his very own, the only thing he didn't have to share, to compromise, or to sacrifice for the sake of the great plan that was his mission, the purpose of his existence. He loved him and trusted him implicitly and intended to keep him by his side forever...

Through the wars that kept heaven and hell at each other's throat for millennia upon millennia (Hell swore up, down, and sideways that it was winning, they had the fairest and brightest to lead them and they were definitely more experienced than that lot 'over there') ... until God broke down and finally made the humans.

That was the beginning of the end for the longest relationship in existence.

It started out fun enough. "Let's corrupt the humans to our side!" was the new rallying cry of hell and they made some great initial strides after Lucifer managed to get the humans kicked out of Eden and then taught them not only what death was like, but how to kill each other (even the most beloved of the other, as Gabriel once was among the youngest) when Cain killed Abel.

Incredibly pissed off by this rampant interference among the humans, heaven retaliated in kind. This was just the opening Lucifer was waiting for and he led an attack into heaven itself. His generic mission? Massacre them some archangels. The overall mission? Get one of the pansy suckers to 'forgive' him so he could Rise. Plan Stage Three needed to be initiated. If they couldn't manage it this round ... well ... there would be other archangels and there would be some looting and pillaging all around before some victory smut in hell.

Enter Yamato. Yamato was one of the strangest angels - the oldest one in heaven who hadn't taken the plunge. He spoke in obscure riddles, and while his power levels weren't on par with the other archangels, he had a strong gift of prophecy.

Satan had been sent off to kill Raphael (which he did successfully), while Lucifer had gone after Yamato. Sadly, he hadn't been able to find him right away, so he'd had to settle for a bunch of lower angels. He'd killed about ten and was just about to kill a pretty young one named Tezuka, when Yamato had shown up.

No one's really sure _what_ happened, but it ended in Yamato's death, Tezuka's near blinding, and the creation of a new Archangel, one Sengoku Kiyosumi. He was the one who _had_ been Lucifer, but had been subtly changed by the resurgence of God's power. One of those changes had been in his relationship with Satan. Satan, still thoroughly evil, had felt betrayed by his Lucy's sudden change of heart. Lucifer had always discussed things with him before... and then one day he just... left.

Unfortunately, Satan didn't have that option because the great void that Lucifer had left automatically sucked him in as the next Lord of Hell since he _was_ the best candidate. Unfortunately, it was rather like plugging his finger into a power plant - the shock of the sudden wave of _malice_ and sheer _power_ fried his brains a bit.

Lucifer had always intended for Satan to take his place when he left. It was practical. The Love Clause would have let them be together anyway and there would be a Lord of Hell who Lucifer could work with without difficulty ... but Lucifer, now calling himself Sengoku Kiyosumi, had been blinded by his absolute trust in Satan and what he thought was Satan's absolute trust in him, forgetting that the divide that he had caused to happen was between them now and that the power of being Lord of Hell which he had created to suit himself would not necessarily suit others as well ...

Instead of ending up with a person who he could deal with, he ended up with a sadistic lunatic. Satan was a creature of whim, with only one goal. _Get even with Lucifer for leaving._

Getting even with Lucifer entailed a wide range of evil acts which included fucking up the humans but good, throwing a hissy fit over The Library, sending the occasional assassin after Tezuka (that annoying little brat who was spending time with HIS 'not me'), destroying the world, and then destroying heaven. It was the second to last that finally forced Sengoku to retaliate in kind, for his intention (his orders, his mission, his reason to exist in his mind) since the beginning had been Balance. There had been only good, so he had created evil. For evil to perpetuate, there must be grudges, so he created the divine war. For their existence to be felt, there must be free will, so the humans were given the knowledge to choose.

Satan finally and nearly fatally threatened the Earth's balance that had been the entire reason things had gone the way they had. He couldn't be allowed to continue. So Sengoku concocted a scheme which he shared with Yukimura and two ambitious demons: Fuji and Yuuta. Satan would be murdered and the Fuji Brothers would take his place as the Lord of Hell. It's not like Satan wouldn't eventually be reborn, after all.

Maybe it was his affection that caused him to underestimate Satan. In the end, they both got what they wanted - Satan died, but he managed to extract punishing revenge on Lucifer. Sure, the power his death released might have permanently wounded Yukimura, and separating Yuuta from his power had been enough to get both Fuji brothers, but Sengoku was the one who really suffered.

His last words, as he was dying, cursed Sengoku. He cursed him to live until the day the world ended, and never know the happiness he'd known with Satan.

Sure, it was a curse, but in a lot of ways, it was a redundant one. Sengoku was already doomed to live until the end of world. His punishment from the divine father over the matter of assfucking the human race had been explicit: "You messed with it, you're stuck with it. When the earth ends, so do you ... so all your works will die with you. How do you like them apples, Prince of Earth?" (The title would live in biblical infamy and preachers would rail from the pulpit about it) Self-protection had naturally been the other motivating factor in Sengoku's plot against Satan.

As for the other half of the curse ... well, without Satan, Sengoku was already unhappy. The mere fact that Satan wasn't around, that his very own was gone, gone, gone ... was all the punishment a person could ask for. It's not like _anyone_ could possibly replace him. Ever. No way. It just wasn't going to happen. Until Kirihara came along (but that hardly counted as anyone else since he _was_ Satan in his expected rebirth)...

The only problem was Kirihara hated him on sight. It wasn't a standard hatred, but something deep and burning. Vestiges of his past life compelled him to.

The hatred had put Sengoku off in the hope of yoinking Kirihara to heaven, but that didn't mean he didn't intend to bring Kirihara around eventually... even if it took years and years of attempting to beat something into his thick skull while having lots of sex.

It was just too bad it had all gone wrong.

* * *

Kamio Akira had always considered himself a relatively good person, but as he watched Kirihara and Sengoku face each other down, he decided he must have committed a major sin somewhere. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but after watching Sakaki turn into a human torch, he knew he was in way over his head.

Saeki watched the two with great wariness. Two divine being facing off in a -- what was it? Judgement Day? did not sound good. At all. He kept one eye on Mizuki and one eye on Kirihara, who was proving to be the slightly more dangerous one.

Sengoku ignored the uneasy rustlings of the class, "So we got poor suckers and we have challenge ... but what about the game itself?"

"Oh?" Kirihara sounded interested.

"Can't be Lord of Hell without a couple of doomed souls," Sengoku smiled, "Whoever dooms the most wins."

"That's not fair! I've been working on damning them for months!" Kirihara's pronouncement had more than a few flinch guiltily. "You'll be using my work!"

"You're the one who picked the class! It's not like I'm at fault if you limited the playing field to my benefit."

"How about we limit it more, then?" Kirihara asked. "We'll play for one soul." His eyes settled on Tachibana, who was kneeling at Sengoku's feet with a slight expression of pain twisting his face. "We've both been working on him, after all."

"Doesn't that make it even more unfair?" Sengoku asked, "You know focuses don't turn away until after their time is done."

"Scared of the challenge?" Kirihara taunted.

"Che ... whoever turns him to their side wins then," Sengoku gave a patented devil may care shrug before crouching down beside Tachibana, "Oi, you gonna make it?"

Tachibana watched him with wary eyes. "I'll survive."

Kirihara snickered at that.

"That's good ... we kinda need to use you as a pawn on the divine chessboard and all. It would kinda suck if you croaked."

Kamio was getting a very bad feeling about this. His breath, though, was caught in his throat so he couldn't protest. He stared helplessly at Tachibana, who was incapacitated and defenseless.

"Do you agree to be the piece in this match, Tachibana-san?" Sengoku was momentarily solemn, an expression that was at odds with his normal state of being.

"What do I have to do?" Tachibana asked, making no commitment.

"Basically? Instead of spending your entire life to work or not work toward the final goal of your after-death existence ... you will have to make the decision now, based solely upon the things we choose to say or do to seduce you to our side."

"No!" Kamio finally erupted from his seat in protest. "Tachibana-san, don't do it!"

Kirihara gestured, and suddenly Kamio was tied back to his chair in heavy chains, with a bright pink gag in his mouth. "This doesn't concern you," he said with annoyance.

Saeki sighed and looked over at Kamio, his expression saying quite plainly that at least Kamio was alive.

"You can choose not to do it, of course," Sengoku tipped his head a little to the side, "It's a free decision to participate or not."

"Of course, if you don't, I'll just kill you and we'll see where your soul lands," Kirihara chimed in helpfully.

Tachibana glanced back and forth between the two divine beings, his expression hardening slightly. He looked over at Kamio with a significant look. "I accept, then."

Sengoku huffed a breath and bit back a smile, "You can't keep threatening everything, Kirihara-kun... what happens if the next puppy you threaten bites you in the leg?"

"What I do to it will hurt a lot more than anything it could do to me. I heal fast."

"It's the principle of the thing!" Sengoku plunked down out of his crouch and into a casual seat on the floor, "See, now, I'm going to make it extra easy for you, Kirihara, and not even offer him anything."

Tachibana's eyes widened and he swiveled his head to look at Kirihara.

"That's because you know you'll never be able to match me." Instead of approaching Tachibana, he went to Kamio, caressing his cheek gently. Kamio tried to squirm away, but Kirihara grabbed his chin roughly. "I know you, Tachibana. You won't accept anything I offer unless it's for someone you care about." The smile turned almost loving as he leaned over to kiss Kamio's cheek. "I offer you his life. If you don't accept me, I will kill him... and that pretty sister of yours after. I'll kill everyone you have ever met."

Tachibana went absolutely white. He pulled himself to his feet using the desks for leverage, glancing over at Sengoku nervously.

Sengoku shook his head, "He can hardly do that if he loses, neh? Since losing means he dies ... and he'll do worse than just killing the people you've met if you agree."

"Safe passage," Kirihara replied, studying his fingernails. "I'll let you name those you care for, and I won't interfere in their lives." Of course, death was always something different.

"Yes, be selfish, Tachibana. Immediately save only the ones who are personally close to you. Who cares about the rest? Forget the fact that they too have people who care about them ... "

Tachibana glanced back and forth, feeling something well inside of him. "Whoever I decide on becomes lord of hell?" he asked to make sure he had the situation firmly comprehended.

"No. I'm already lord of hell. Why change the devil you know?" Kirihara replied with exaggerated patience.

"Whoever you decide on lives ... and takes up the position in hell since, yanno, _someone_ has to do it," Sengoku paused.

Tachibana caught the message, and then he understood. A slight smile lingered on his lips as he turned to Sengoku. "I choose what you represent, then."

Up in heaven, Fuji fell off Tezuka's lap as the room shook, Atobe ducked as another of his chandeliers came crashing down, and Yanagi was forced to tears as row after row of his bookshelves fell over. In Hell, Kikumaru suddenly gained a throbbing headache, Dan suddenly stopped playing on the playground, and Inui felt the cord of power which had bound him to Kirihara snap.

The power almost whiplashed away from Kirihara to snap itself into place around Sengoku, where is thrummed and fizzled in an almost affectionate manner before settling down to merely trying to play with his hair.

Sengoku flashed Tachibana a smile (that might almost have been relieved) before pointing dramatically at Kirihara. "That means your ass is mine. Get over here so I can kick it."

"Like Hell I will! I'll kill you this time!" Kirihara's malevolence hasn't decreased at all, even if half his power was gone. Even without the lordship of hell, he was still damned powerful. He reached down and grabbed Kamio around the neck.

BOOM! Something exploded, and then everything was quiet. 


	19. All Good Things Must Come to an End

** Paved with Good Intentions**  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.

* * *

_  
Part 19: All Good (or bad) Things Must Come to an End_

It was Inui's turn to provide the decor at his and Yanagi's monthly meeting, but the decor was proving remarkably resistant. In the past five minutes he had been flipped off by a green frog, drenched with pond water, and had a fish thrown at him for daring to rearrange the existence of the pond that happened to now exist in the place that was their usual spot. Inui was getting somewhat annoyed, but since his efforts were futile, he decided to give up and just make a French table in black iron this time. The table decided it wanted to be a lounge chair.

Inui sighed and sat down on it, hoping his summoned tea wouldn't end up as a cup of Every Flavor Beans.

Yanagi appeared, and his levitation spell was promptly canceled, sending him crashing into the tepid water below. He had _heard_ things had gotten unusual since the change in administration, but he hadn't really _believed_ it. Breaking the surface, he was unamused by the lily pad that had wound up on his head, resembling a jaunty hat.

Inui _smirked_ down at Yanagi. "Powers become a little faulty in your old age?"

Yanagi shook himself off, shut his eyes, and managed to rise so he was standing on the water. "Just... out of tune. What frequency is this plain _on?_" he asked, trying to hide his frustration. He was having a hard time tapping into the inherent magic of the plain.

"I think it has decided that it will be on no one's plain. I can only get my powers to work if I only use _my_ power," Inui was pleased to note that his summoned tea had only managed to transmute into a lemonade. Maybe he was getting the hang of it!

Yanagi knew he was now at a serious disadvantage. Inui was one of the Lords of Hell, while he was merely a librarian. "Annoying, that." He created a seat which turned into a flotation device instead of the wooden chair he'd been wanting. The flotation device, thankfully, was low enough to see over and he picked up the cup of tea Inui had brought for him this time around. In the mood he was in, Penal Tea couldn't do much damage.

A sip... and Yanagi nearly spat it out. It was... normal? "Nice blend," he complimented.

Inui sighed again. Life just wasn't fair if Yanagi couldn't be horribly scarred by his Penal Tea. "Yes. Very... revitalizing."

"I think the decor has been revitalized a bit," Yanagi replied. He looked down, noticing how a school of fish swam by. "Did they turn the souls in limbo into... aquatic life?"

"I am not sure ... they seem to be very ordinary Earth fish."

"Then where are the souls that are supposed to be here?"

"Perhaps they have already moved them through the process?"

"That would be contrary to the purpose of Purgatory. There's supposed to be lines. Things aren't supposed to be efficient."

"Sengoku-san has hardly proved that he does things in the expected manner."

Yanagi smiled slightly. It was a perfect opening. "Indeed. Speaking of the Lord and Master, I wanted to ask you about the fall-out of the Satan mess."

"Oh? I wanted to ask you some things as well."

"I asked first," Yanagi said. Their monthly meetings had defined rules, rules that were the only thing that maintained their contact.

"Very well," Inui could acknowledge expected defeat gracefully.

"So?"

"So what is your question?"

"What is happening in hell since Satan was taken out?"

"Not too much. There has been some generic reorganization and Kirihara has been promoted into Nanjirou's old position."

"Kirihara?" Yanagi wracked his brain, managing to dredge up an image of black hair and pretty blue-green eyes. "You mean that piece of fluff Sengoku was playing with before the whole mess started?"

"Yes. He and Ryouma had already been angling toward that position before the debacle. Though it was surprising for him to take it this early, it is not so surprising over all."

Yanagi's stomach dropped as he thought of something. "...they didn't make him hell's representative in purgatory, did they?" He had a bad, bad feeling about this.

Inui blinked. "They did, actually ... "

Yanagi gave in and buried his face in his hands. "Do you honestly think he could keep Sengoku from doing everything his way?" He still didn't trust the archangel, despite their both being on the same side.

Inui sighed, "No, but I doubt that anyone can really stop Sengoku-san from doing things his own way ... considering that heaven has not been able to manage it," he added a trifle maliciously, "But it keeps Kirihara out of Fuji's way most admirably, ne?" It galled Inui to think that a hellish representative couldn't just walk all over the heavenly one, but unfortunately there it was.

"Why promote him, then? I think Fuji should be popular right now. His plot to take out Satan was sheer brilliance," Yanagi was forced to admit.

Inui's teeth gritted for a moment. "I do not know. I suppose because the post has been vacant this long and the rival for it is now dead."

Yanagi never understood hellish politics. He was about to ask another question, when he noticed something. "Are those koi fish?" He was surprised; koi should not have been able to survive with the other specimens (including a few hungry looking piranhas) in the pond.

Inui looked down. "They appear to be." Personally, he chalked up their survival to the universal weirdness that had been sinking its self-satisfied little teeth into Purgatory lately. Considering the disgruntlement of both sides, it certainly boded well for the disgruntlement of souls.

"I did have a favor to ask, though."

"Oh?" Inui immediately perked up. Any favor Yanagi owed him was a good favor.

" A small favor," Yanagi corrected.

"I should be the judge of that," Inui replied with relish.

Yanagi weighed what he was going to ask against owing a debt, and decided it would be worth it. Inui wouldn't threaten his sanity the way the current situation was already doing. "Fine, we'll discuss it later. I want you to convince Niou and Yagyuu to go back to where they belong." It was decidedly unangelic to wish someone back to hell, but he was on the verge of snapping.

Now it was Inui who had to weigh the two pleasures of being owed a debt by Yanagi and the one in which he got to watch Yanagi squirm over the presence of his loosely termed coworkers. He decided he could angle a bit of the second even if he did the first, "Do you not want to give them the benefit of your divine influence?" he asked innocently.

"Right now I fear Shishido will kill them and fall again... and Ohtori will find some way to follow him without falling since he loves Shishido." The threat was quite clear.

Inui nearly twitched. Ugh. Ohtori around hell. "Very well," he bowed his head as gracefully as he could manage, "I will ... talk to them."

"Soon, please. Ohtori's brilliant radiance seems to be getting stronger." Yanagi took another sip of tea. "It's distracting both him and Shishido from their research."

"So nothing has come up then?"

"They might be at it for a few decades. With Satan gone, the time isn't any issue. They'll find them, eventually."

Inui nodded to this, though he was still determined to find them through some other means first.

Yanagi watched without amusement as a duck swam by. "I do have one other suggestion."

"Oh?"

"How about we shift our next meeting to earth?" This time, a dog swum by practicing an impressive backstroke. "I hate to think what this place is going to be a month from now."

"Hopefully he will be bored by then ... " The suggestion was not without merit, "Very well. I know a very delightful nightclub."

"I was thinking more of a nice restaurant."

"Nightclubs have restaurants occasionally."

"One that the serving staff is fully dressed."

"That is hardly a bad thing."

"I'll pick up the bill if we go to Gino's."

Ahh, mooching. It was fundamentally evil. "Very well."

* * *

Oishi was going to Hell.

He sat in a bar, wondering when a devil would show up to drag him down. He'd just slept with a mortal who he didn't really love, and then left before Shinji had woken up. He'd been sober for the first time in weeks, and he could see his future.

He had sinned. He had to be punished.

Murphy's Law is always at work in the universe, which meant that since Oishi was already feeling in the pits, the universe conspired to make him feel even worse. Tezuka pushed the door to the bar open and slid smoothly through the smoke to take up residence at the barstool that he had decided was his. "Hello, Oishi."

Oishi jumped, and whimpered. Tezuka was the _last_ creature he wanted to see... well, aside from Fuji, but that was a given. "T-Tezuka!" he stammered, arranging himself so the bottle he'd been drinking from was hidden by his back.

Tezuka blinked, which was all the acknowledgement of the bottle that he felt he needed to give. "How are you?" Small talk seemed to be a reasonable way to attempt to inch himself along to the subject of Oishi's ... indiscretions. All things considered, he would rather be blunt and tactless, but Tezuka was afraid that Oishi might bolt.

"Um..." Oishi wondered if he was allowed to lie yet.

Tezuka waited expectantly.

"Um..."

He didn't even blink.

"Um..." They were at a standstill.

Okay, so subtlety wasn't working. "Why did you sleep with Shinji?"

Oishi cringed and started to babble. Nothing he said made any sense in any language that had ever existed on Earth.

Tezuka huffed a small breath. It wasn't making much sense to him either. "It is okay ... slow down."

Oishi grabbed the bottle he'd been hiding and took a long, steadying sip. There was no point in keeping it a secret - Tezuka already knew. "I've been having a few bad weeks," he stated. Another long swallow.

Tezuka reached out and calmly wrapped his fingers around the bottle's neck, tugging on it and hoping that Oishi would let the liquor go.

Like always, Oishi capitulated to his senior. He watched as Tezuka took the bottle, and then did something so the bottle vanished. "I wasn't thinking that clearly, and, um..." His face was a brilliant red.

"You were drunk and got laid." Tezuka was a man of simplicity.

"Yes?" The word was spoken so softly that only Tezuka's divine hearing enabled him to catch it.

Tezuka regarded Oishi in an almost dissecting kind of way, if he did dissecting looks, before he reached out again and clasped Oishi's shoulder. "It's okay?"

Oishi's eyes started to water. "But I'm going to HELL!" he yelled, and since this bar wasn't as seedy as the last, half the crowd was suddenly staring at them.

Well, except Tezuka didn't _want_ Oishi to go to hell. He wanted to keep him right there in heaven ... "Not if you sincerely repent of your sins?"

"But I deserve to be punished!" Oishi wailed.

"Is not guilt a punishment?" Not that Tezuka couldn't do the punishing if guilt was insuffic -- a touch of color threatened to rise in his cheeks. Obviously Fuji had been a bad influence even as an angel.

"But there's no guilt in heaven!" Oishi obviously hadn't spoken to Shishido much.

Tezuka looked perhaps a fraction amused, "Of course there is. Shishido would be an example."

Oishi sniffed. "Really?"

The corners of Tezuka's lips twitched upward. "I can hardly lie."

Oishi threw himself at Tezuka, wrapping his arms tightly around him. A woman sniffed, touched.

Tezuka nearly startled, arms raising automatically, then he found a good use for them by looping them around Oishi and patting his back in a somewhat awkward manner. He hadn't done it before ... he supposed he would get better with practice.

Oishi realized their audience. "Um..." he glanced pointedly around, his flush changing slightly to one of embarrassment.

"We should move this somewhere more private," Tezuka stated, feeling perhaps just a tiny bit embarrassed.

Oishi glanced around the bar, before taking Tezuka by the hand and dragging him out the door. "Back to my place," he suggested, a bit wobbly by rapidly sobering. The air was cold against their skin, with the shared warmth of their hands a welcome relief.

"I can take us," Tezuka offered, deciding that he wouldn't pull his hand away and that he might give Oishi's a little squeeze while he was at it.

"Sure." They stepped into a convenient ally, and teleported.

Unlike Tezuka's usually perfect teleports, they somehow wound up in Oishi's bedroom, and Oishi, uncomfortably close to a wall, lost his balance and fell forward... landing on Tezuka. He blinked slowly, experiencing a weird form of deja vu. Not expecting to teleport into Oishi's bedroom, and even less having suspected that Oishi was fall on him ... Tezuka ended up leaning back too far to stop himself from falling backwards onto the bed.

The two ended up in a pile, with Tezuka's arms wrapped around Oishi. The bed bounced a bit, and Oishi felt himself relaxing a bit. Tezuka was so warm...

Tezuka squirmed a little. Not because it was unpleasant having Oishi sprawled across him on a bed ... but because it was a bit _too_ pleasant. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Are you alright?" He realized it was a stupid thing to say only after he said it.

"Um... fine? You?

"That's good ... I am also fine." Tezuka found himself not in any real hurry to actually move though.

They lay there for about thirty seconds, staring into each other's eyes... and then they were kissing. Oishi might have leaned down just as Tezuka moved up. Really, there was no way to tell. Once they were actually doing it, though, it was a whole other matter. Tezuka tentatively gave Oishi's lips something like a lick.

Oishi's mind went completely numb. He was kissing Tezuka... without a dictate from hell... oh, crap. He pulled away, gasping a bit. "We... shouldn't." He thought of his love for Eiji, and Fuji's pursuit of Tezuka guiltily.

Tezuka blinked at him slowly for a long moment, considering the matter from a very careful and highly personal standpoint before deciding that why, yes, he could get away with it ... if Oishi was of similar desires, "Why not?"

"Well... Fuji, and Eiji, and..." He couldn't think of any other really good reason. Tezuka was the most important person in his life, always fishing him out of trouble when he needed help.

"I am hardly in love with Fuji and the bounds of our arrangement are ... not as strict as I had imagined," Tezuka offered after a moment. As for the Eiji matter, he would be perfectly happy if Eiji was GONE and would keep his hands away from Oishi. Especially since success of Eiji meant no more Oishi. Tezuka couldn't imagine his life without him.

"Not... as strict?" he echoed. He'd had suspicions about Tezuka's deal with Fuji, but had never discussed it with him before

"Yes. Reasonably flexible, in fact," Tezuka was feeling downright evil, well, not really evil since he was still a bit too angelic for his own good, but he was definitely too damn pleased (in a Tezuka way which meant his lips were in a general upward motion which was not quite a smile, but gave the impression that he might smile) with himself. He had found himself a loophole.

"How?" Oishi asked. He'd never heard of anyone managing to squirm out of a contract with Fuji.

Tezuka paused, because well, it was somewhat embarrassing, "I would not have to ... " a small flush managed to worm it's way onto his cheeks, "bottom with you, right?"

Oishi blinked. He had never thought of being seme to Tezuka. A matching flush covered his face as he shook his head no.

"Then ... um ... I get off on a seme/uke technicality," Tezuka's flush deepened, because it really was horribly embarrassing talking about his deal with Fuji.

Oishi stared for a long moment, before enthusiastically rolling over so Tezuka was lying on top of him.

* * *

Sometimes, the most amusing thing about humans was their rampant ability to fill in the little details that had gotten lost somewhere. Car crash? Can't remember? In comes a dribble of speculation and chit-chat that one finally decides is exactly what one remembers. When faced with things more mentally mind bending than simple personal suffering and this ability morphed out of control.

Sengoku mused over this thoughtfully as he considered if he could throw the paper at Kamio's head or make it a spit ball first. Luckily, Kamio was saved by Tachibana's dismissal of the class, and Sengoku tossed the paper back into his bag instead.

Some humans, like Tachibana, happened to be immune to that ability we were talking about before. Sengoku figured he would actually have to talk to the poor man ... probably right about now, while everyone was busy escaping. To that end, he drifted toward the front of the class.

Tachibana had been giving both Sengoku and Kirihara strange looks throughout class. They didn't belong there, not after missing the two-class cut off. However, when he checked the attendance book, there were no absences listed, and their presence was marked by the neat little "checks" that had Sakaki stamped all over it. 

He rather missed his mentor, who had apparently died while teaching in a gas main explosion. The thing was, Tachibana didn't remember it that way. He _knew_ he'd been killed as an aside to a hellish war. He knew that Sengoku and Kirihara were the incarnations of evil... but here they were, back in class, with no one the wiser.

They say reality is defined by mass consensus. If that was true, Tachibana had gone insane.

Sengoku waved at Kirihara, "Hey, I'll catch up with you ... "

Kirihara looked at Sengoku the way a person who was being shed on by a cat regarded the critter in their lap. "Maybe," he returned, before taking the exit located at the back of the room. He did grin at Tachibana in a rather unsettling fashion before shutting the door behind him.

If Sengoku had insight into the analogy, he would be shedding as much as possible before being shoved off that lap. The moment Kirihara had vanished, Sengoku slid on down to Tachibana's side in a move that was unobvious to the rest of the class, fast, and vaguely serpentine.

Tachibana, who had been about to clean the whiteboard off, instead remained facing Sengoku. Only a stupid man would turn his back on the devil... if he really was the devil. Or... had Kirihara ended up with it? He really wished he knew exactly what had happened, but one moment he'd been throwing his support to Sengoku's side, while the next he'd been in an ambulance, being treated for smoke inhalation.

Sengoku glanced at the class, and when he turned back to Tachibana, it was as if there was a ripple in the air between the two of them and the rest of the class. Well, to Tachibana, it seemed like a ripple, to everyone else, it was the standard "we aren't here, oh, hey, look at that sparkly over there!" Sengoku plunked down beside the podium and leaned back against it, "So, wanna talk about it?"

Tachibana looked at the students who were walking right by them, raising a significant eyebrow.

Sengoku grinned, "They see us, but they don't see us. It's kinda like an 'ignore me' field."

"Ah." Tachibana was quiet for a long moment before asking a simple question. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Just... why?"

"Why were you chosen? Why was this class chosen? Why is there a war in the first place? C'mon, man, be more specific."

"All of the above?" The final student left the classroom, shutting the lights of rather inconveniently.

A moment passed and the lights flickered themselves back on. "There's a war because divine beings are not too different from humans. They can disagree, they can get into fights, they can be hurt, they can hold grudges ... and once upon a time I took advantage of that fact to make sure we would always fight each other. This class was chosen because Kirihara was sent here to work his demonic wiles upon them, get them all to sin, damn them, so on and so forth ... where something starts, it should also end, neh? As for you, well, you would have to make this kind of choice at some point. You're what we call a focus, a point around which events occur. You also have a fancy destiny ... if you choose to accept it."

Most people would have probably run screaming for the door, but not Tachibana. "What happened to Yuuta?" he asked instead, his natural concern wanting to know the truth. "And why did Sakaki die?"

"Kirihara killed Yuuta. It was ... a vengeance for something that happened in the last war. As for Sakaki," Sengoku shrugged and then sighed, "he died because someone choose to murder him, and I choose not to stop him."

Tachibana didn't launch into recriminations for Sengoku's lack of action. "You can't save everyone, can you?"

Sengoku nodded, "No, I can't."

"Did I make the right choice?" _Are you the lord of hell right now?_ Tachibana wondered, knowing Sengoku could be lying through his teeth if that was the case.

Sengoku appeared to consider it at the moment, "I think you did. You made the choice that returned us to the status quo. Fuji in Hell serving as Lord, Kirihara in random demonic format, and myself ... as my archangelic self." He grinned, "I can't tell you how I thank the Maker for that."

The only Fuji Tachibana knew was dead, but he decided not to press. "You're... an angel." For some reason, that took him more aback than anything else.

Sengoku gave him a woeful look, "Why does everyone look that way when I tell them that?"

Tachibana was graceful and didn't reply. "Is there some reason no one remembers the battle for control of all our destinies?" Tachibana asked instead. Outside, he could hear the clock chime three.

Sengoku looked this way and that for a moment, "Let's just say that it could prove ... difficult, if people actually remembered that I still exist. So, I made them forget. Or rather, I blurred it in their minds, suggested a vague-ish incident, and the human mind filled in the rest. Besides, that kind of divine warring has a tendency to scar innocent minds."

"Do I remember because I'm a... focus?"

"Yes," he tipped his head to the side, "I could make it so that you don't remember either, if you want."

It was tempting, for just a second, to go back to happy oblivion. "I'm afraid I can't let you," Tachibana said a bit regretfully. "We're the sum of our memories, though, and someone needs to remember the truth."

Sengoku nodded, as if he had somewhat expected that Tachibana would pick that. It was his opinion that the man was made of The Firm Stuff and no pansy ass end of the world baloney was going to make him back down.

"Is... Saeki involved?" The question came from right field.

Sengoku paused for a moment, plucking at this new statement's thread, "Yes and no. He had made a deal with the current devil, but that's not really within the purview of the incident ... and he too has forgotten that part of it."

"Is he still bound?" Tachibana asked, rapidly trying to think things through. He'd noticed Saeki acting strangely before the incident (very, very jumpy), something which had melted away right after.

"As long as he wishes to be. I didn't erase that since it was his own decision."

"Erase..." Tachibana shuddered a bit. "Are you and Kirihara planning on finishing the term here?" He rather dreaded it

"Yep! One should finish what one starts," Sengoku grinned, "And I'm not letting him off that easy. He has a class to try damning and I get to sit here and be a thorn in his side."

Tachibana felt sweat bead against his forehead. "Could you two please remember I have a class to teach?" he asked. The school had put him in charge of the class until a substitute professor could be found - which would probably be sometime next semester. They were reimbursing him with a semester of free tuition, and Sakaki had meticulously ordered lesson plans, but Tachibana was questioning it now.

Sengoku attempted to look innocent, "We won't be worse than we were before?"

Tachibana crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his fingers. "I am quite willing to throw you two out for disturbing the learning environment."

Sengoku drooped, "No more math? Even though Mizuki is punishing him daily with the gospel? And Kamio is _smirking_?"

Tachibana shuddered. Mizuki's sudden conversion to devout faith and switching majors to divinity was still unsettling. His long diatribes on God's saving love made Tachibana want to fall asleep. He imagined it would be horrible for a devil. "Are you sure you're one of the good guys?"

"I'm officially on the side of light, but mainly I sit around on earth and maintain the balance of the universe," Sengoku waggled a hand, "Maybe I could be called a sort of generic gray, or possibly flecked."

Tachibana just shook his head. "...are all angels like you?"

"No. They're beacons of light, hope, grace, love, and all the plentiful virtues. Except possibly Yukimura because he's sneaky."

Tachibana had no clue who Yukimura was. He ran a hand over his head, then offered a slight smile. "Did he learn from you?"

Sengoku attempted to look mortally offended, but then flopped onto his side and twitched, "Maybe. That would be disturbing ... to know all the little chibi-angels grew up to be just like me."

The idea actually made Tachibana shudder visibly. "Maybe I _should_ reconsider having you erase my mind. That's a horrifying thought I could do without."

* * *

Fuji leaned back on his bed, staring up at the mirrors on his ceiling with little interest. Everything had worked out pretty much to his plans, though he was admittedly a bit annoyed at Tezuka - and impressed. He hadn't realized that the archangel could actually find the loophole in their contract.

The loophole was the subject of more than one demonic interest. Eiji happened to be another concerned party. A hissy ball of thwarted incubus who was hurtling into Fuji's room with not a single by-your-leave, pointing dramatically at Fuji, "You ... you ... YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP TEZUKA OCCUPIED!"

"Do you remember who you are talking to?" Fuji asked curiously as he slid up, propping himself against his pillows. His bed, a magnificent study in black silk decadence, accented Fuji's good looks perfectly. Right now there was no one else in it, which was a rarity.

Eiji still wanted to scream and throw things anyway. He huffed instead and glowered in Fuji's general direction.

Fuji chuckled a bit. "There's times when I don't get my way entirely. Think of it, though. Tezuka... and Oishi..." Fuji's eyes turned a bit dreamy. "Wouldn't you love to be in the middle?"

"No! I want him to fall!" Eiji snapped, a distinctive whine beginning to creep into his voice.

"Give it a few more centuries." Fuji yawned delicately. He was used to taking the long view. "Drag Oishi down for adultery."

Eiji stamped his foot, "With _Tezuka_ in his bed? I could barely get him when Tezuka was just _around_ let alone giving him sex."

"Maybe I need to check your performance review if you keep up such a consistent rate of failure, then."

Eiji would have snarled and his lips were certainly twitching in that direction, "Fine. I just won't talk to _you_ anymore." And with that hardly useful threat, he turned to stomp right back out.

Fuji rolled his eyes, and watched as Eiji jerked at the door, only to find it locked. He jerked more roughly, and was rewarded with a searing surge of power. "You didn't ask to leave," Fuji said mildly. Really, sometimes his subordinates were so disrespectful. Maybe he needed to take a page out of one of Kirihara's books and vaporize them now and then.

Eiji scowled at the door, "So? You obviously didn't want me to stay."

Fuji patted the bed beside him, indicating Eiji was to come over. "Where did you get that idea?"

The incubus turned to scowl in Fuji's direction, folding his arms over his chest and looking sulky. He didn't want to fuck around with Fuji! Fuji was being mean! He wanted to fuck _Oishi_.

"You're still young. You need to start thinking of the larger picture, here. Oishi is currently out of your reach, but that doesn't mean he'll always be. He'll always wonder what it could be like with you, and that will wear away at his relationship with Tezuka. And meanwhile, you can have fun working on someone else." He motioned to the bed again. "I personally am thinking it would be fun to go after Atobe... he definitely needs to be taken down a peg."

Eiji, sighed, frustrated. He still didn't want to give up Oishi. He _never_ failed and here was Tezuka coming in and screwing things up. "I don't wanna seduce anyone else," he muttered, finally making his reluctant way over to the bed.

Fuji took him in his arms, offering a comforting hug. "Eiji, you'll understand when you're older."

Eiji squirmed a little. He didn't want comfort, he wanted victory! "I don't wanna be older either!"

"You really want to be erased?" Fuji asked with curiosity. "That can be arranged."

"Hey!" Eiji flailed, "Just because I don't want to get old and decrepit and have to _wait_ for everything doesn't mean I want to die, nyah!"

Fuji laughed. "Eiji... devils don't age. They just get older and more powerful." Which Eiji should know, as he was pushing 1,000. It was remarkable he could function sometimes with his evident lack of comprehension for the way the universe worked.

Eiji huffed. He still didn't want to _wait_. He hated being patient more than he hated Tezuka. Why couldn't he have it NOW?

Fuji sighed. "Would an orgy make you feel better? I think there's a few devils around here that might be up for it."

Okay, so that would make him feel better. Eiji looked at Fuji suspiciously out of the corner of his eyes ... but that didn't mean that The Devil was supposed to be offering to "make him feel better". Obviously something was up, "What'll it cost me?"

"Nothing you can't afford," Fuji said easily. "Besides, I'm bored."

Eiji sniffed, "Okay," and pounced on Fuji.

* * *

The office, formerly under bouncing and then back into bouncing as it jerked up to a medium kind of level and sort of hovered there, was in a state of siege. Not that it was ever NOT in a state of siege, but this was more siege-like than necessary.

Sides had been drawn. The clock was hiding behind a bookshelf and clanking ominously. The books rattled in preparation for being hurtled across the room at the desk. It was NOT in a good mood. Someone new, infernally young, and dangerously disrespectful and whippersnappery was DARING to sit in The Chair.

The scale was also in hiding. Hiding in the shelf behind the desk, slowly inching a book into place to let fall on the horrid creature who had stolen its beloved's place. To think it would never have the opportunity to grope those firm asscheeks again ...

The snake made a happy hissing noise and squirmed around in Kirihara's lap. Life was sweet with another slice of true evil around. It had gotten lonely with The Serpent Himself always absent. The Greater Beast, however, was warm and snuggly and perfect for burrowing.

Kirihara was not amused at all the attention he was getting. He was prepared to fry the clock's circuitry if it dared make a move, and he had a pretty good idea that throwing the scale into the clock would probably work to his benefit. The snake, which was a bit on the clingy side, was really the only thing in the entire mass of chaos he didn't dislike.

The books across from Kirihara shifted around in preparation for flight when Sengoku popped in. Or rather, tried to drop himself off the ceiling and onto Kirihara ... since yanno, he was sitting _right there_.

Kirihara just looked a bit nonplussed as Sengoku landed in his lap. The Chair, which had been the largest part of Kirihara's packages when he moved from hell into his current position, was a repeated bone of contention between the two of them.

Personally, Sengoku would just be happy to use _Kirihara_ as the chair, but ... he grinned, "So, did we get any messages?"

"Ask Jin. He's supposed to be your secretary."

"But you're sitting in the secretarial seat." To Sengoku, this was the Height of Logic.

"It's the throne of hell." Kirihara snapped the foot rest out to demonstrate, which forced Sengoku to squiggle a bit to get in a more comfortable position. The snake, which was stuck between the two of them, "thweeed" a little in delight. "It's too nice to leave to Jin."

"So we'll stick it in a corner and use it as the ... hmm ... study chair." Sengoku's grin became more reminiscent of a leer.

Kirihara recognized that look, and knew that in less than ten minutes he would be naked, like it or not. He could pretend he had a chance, he decided. "Maybe."

"Did you have something else in mind?" Sengoku asked, snuggling up a little closer to Kirihara and looping an arm around his neck.

"There is that matter of you letting Tachibana remember. He's purposely thwarting me now," Kirihara said crossly.

"Well, someone has to since I'm not? It's not like I can let them send another angel in to do the job."

Kirihara sniffed. "It'd be fun to try to corrupt someone else. Maybe Sanada..."

"Mmmm, Sanada ... that would be interesting. How about on the next assignment?"

Kirihara perked up. "You really think Yukimura will let him off the leash that long?"

"He has to let him do his job too, yanno," Sengoku said reasonably, "and there's another justice shtick that should be going through within the next couple decades."

"Ah, that one." Kirihara shut his eyes, accessing the possibilities. "I think it's more likely Atobe is going to handle that mess. He hasn't been down to earth in nearly a century, and they're going to want him to keep his hand in." The possibilities narrowed a bit as he considered that. "Fuji's going to be handling it personally."

"Think a little to the left and around the corner. Atobe may handle the big one, but there will be a few smaller wildfires that Sanada might get sent into." If the humans didn't handle it themselves, of course.

"Not as fun," Kirihara pouted. He was fond of making the big messes worse. "Besides, if I try to go after that one, it'll set a chain off again."

Kirihara wasn't all that fond of his new job description. While he was resigned to only being one of the four great lords of hell instead of being top kahuna, he hated having to think of the big picture. Trying to keep the universe from tilting too far from one side or the other was exhausting.

Sengoku ruffled his hair because Kirihara was adorable when he was pouting, "Really? What kind of chain?"

"I'm thinking the end of Baltimore - though that might not be such a bad thing. Never did like that city."

"It's not like eternal peace within the United States is necessarily a _good_ thing ... "

"I don't think you want another Chernobyl, though."

"So try not to make a Chernobyl."

Kirihara still didn't know the meaning of moderation, and couldn't see the way out. "I'll think on it later. There's a few years to go." He waved a dismissive hand.

Sengoku grinned and nipped at Kirihara's ear. If it ended up being too tedious to the demon, he figured he could just find him places were SMASH and BASH was what was needed and just point Kirihara in that general direction. Besides, there was a war that would need to be fermented in a minor country to set up the business of letting the overhaul of justice go through.

Kirihara's fingers found the waistband of Sengoku's pants rather quickly, and he ran a finger along the part of the skin where shirt met flesh. "Have there been any consequences about rewriting so many memories? Is Tezuka obsessed with pineapples?" he asked hopefully. "Or is Kamio considering becoming a drag queen?" That would be amusing.

Sengoku mumbled something around a mouthful of ear that could be roughly translated as "Only Inui." He released the ear to admire his handiwork before attacking Kirihara's neck, "He seems to have become pretty fond of writing bad fanfiction porn."

"What's his screenname?" Kirihara asked curiously. His fingers slid under the waistband slightly, teasingly, before rising to run circles around Sengoku's belly.

"Sailor Oscar, I believe ... and maybe some numbers at the end," Sengoku purred, arching against Kirihara's fingers and pushing the demon farther into the chair, "That's right: Sailor Oscar 666."

The scale and clock were both rattling their protest by now. The snake kept quiet to avoid being discovered since it was happily pressed between their bodies and had its head against Kirihara's ... well, what can we say? It was a pretty good day to be in the office. 


	20. Epilogue: Where Are They Now?

** Paved with Good Intentions**  
by **surefall** and **aishuu**  
Disclaimer: Based on Prince of Tennis, by Konomi.  
Part 19 and 20 Summary: In Which the authors heave a sigh of relief for actually FINISHING.

* * *

_Epilogue: Where Are They Now?_

Ibu Shinji ran into Mizuki during the latter's Ranting About God (the name the class had given his moments of eloquence on the subject) in a study group and was converted to Christianity in the span of three hours. He then joined AA, said goodbye to Oishi, had a whirlwind romance with a girl from Tokyo, and became a professional mumbler.

Kamio Akira managed to pass math class with a D due to judicious amounts of make-up tests. Amazingly happy, he proposed to An on the same day his grades came in. After marrying and having the requisite two children, he had a mental breakdown before finally admitting he had been in love with Tachibana all along. He's now in the middle of a messy divorce which promises to leave him completely broke.

Fuji Yuuta was reborn, as expected, a couple years later to Ryuuzaki Sakuno by her husband Kentarou Aoi. This was not expected. Sakuno was a buxom miko with the powers of the divine who lived in a temple (but was unable to even pay a delivery man due to her incredible shyness). Yuuta grew up in a peaceful, demon-less existence, pestered by his older sister Tomoko (the miko to be), and playing with the poncy French boy from down the road.

Mizuki Hajime spent the next few years of his life preaching the wonders of God and warning that the end was near. Not surprisingly, he fostered a surprisingly large cult devoted to him, and all were nearly insoluble when the elevator he was in plunged ten stories, killing him instantly. Rumor has it his reincarnation was born somewhere in France.

The Kisarazu twins, Atsushi and Ryou, finally admitted they had the hots for each other. Atsushi dumped his trophy girl and Ryou dumped his trophy boy. Their parents were not pleased by the statement of their love, but since they had a daughter, they're hoping the Kisarazu line might manage to survive. Especially if there's more incest.

Hanamura Aoi is still screwing the prettiest boys in all of her classes, and now screws the pretty girls as well. Even though she's approaching fifty, she doesn't look any older, due to lots of plastic surgery and collagen injections. Those breasts weren't natural to start with, so it doesn't make that big a difference.

Saeki Koujirou never settled down. He jumped from lover to lover (occasionally sharing with Hanamura) and from sport to sport, becoming especially adept at parachuting, skyscraper-climbing, shark-diving, and just about anything that can kill you until the shark-diving did kill him when he was accidentally speared by a P.E.T.A. Rebel. He's now serving as a low level demon in Hell. Occasionally he and Sengoku do lunch.

Tachibana Kippei went on to rescue Mizuki's distraught followers after they lost their leader. He converted them to the concept of "Senism," the belief that everything had its place in the world. A devote pacifist, Tachibana earned the Nobel Peace Prize three times before he was forty for averting a nasty war between Japan and Argentine, finding the cure for cancer and solving the waiting line problems in DMVs.

Sanada Genichirou scored a perfect ten on his performance sheets for ten years running before deciding the katana was out and switching to a sawed off shot gun. The use of guns on earth has increased by 25 in response.

Yukimura Seiichi never did recover enough to make it back down to Earth. Instead, he continued to use Sanada as his bitch and delightedly foiled plans of Fuji's time and again.

Echizen Ryouma's powers were stolen by Nanjirou while he was dead. Nanjirou has made quite the wake in Hell at his return, while Ryouma still waits for reincarnation. Not that he'll REMEMBER that his powers were stolen, but no doubt it'll irk his karma.

Atobe Keigo is currently trying to pick up the slack Sengoku left since transferring to Purgatory, and having a frustrating time of it. His visits to Earth lately have all been interrupted by Fuji, who seems to have taken a more hands-on approach to his affairs. After casting a few lightening bolts at the devil and missing, Atobe has decided the best thing he can do is ignore Fuji... which doesn't seem to be working.

Dan Taichi has been doing the things that all children who also happen to be lordlings of hell do: annoy his underlings, get scraped knees, play tiddlywinks with Jin, and giggle at Kirihara while begging to play. He also plans to go to Disney World next year and teach little children the secret of the REAL magic kingdom.

Oishi Syuichirou has gotten over his failure with Shinji, but has been transferred out of the guardian angel division. He now works with Tezuka on "special projects." The work seems to involve a lot of nudity. Occasionally he sends Kikumaru friendly text-messages on his new cellphone.

Kikumaru Eiji hasn't gotten over his failure with Oishi and is now working to get Oishi to send him nude pictures via the cellphone while using very bad l33t to convince Oishi to ditch Tezuka. When he doesn't want to throw it into the wall after having blasted him with Oishi's angelic cheerfulness. He works part time as the sweet thang of President of the United States and hopes to cause a war that will put the Trojan one to shame.

Inui Sadaharu's fame as a badfic! writer has spread, earning multiple Web sites full of hate directed at him. Delighted, he has now expanded to trolling and other versions of wank creation. Yanagi Renji, originally suspicious of his counterpart's motives, has become an internet lawyer, threatening to sue anyone who posts questionable material. Needless to say, they show up on Fandom Wank weekly in some identity or other.

Tezuka Kunimitsu has been having the (restrained) time of his life with Oishi, enjoying the distinct thrill that comes of slipping through loopholes. He has also been known to crack a smile now and again. On Sundays he plays chess with Atobe and makes an effort not to say anything at all about Fuji's advances, but there's a suspicion that he's smirking.

Shishido Ryou and Ohtori Choutarou are still looking through the books. They're going to be looking for a while, since Sengoku keeps swiping the ones they are looking for and replacing them with copies of The Gay Kama Sutra. Sadly, Ohtori hasn't gotten the hint and is still a virgin - much to Shishido's frustration.

Akutagawa Jirou managed to sleep through Yuuta's death AND the showdown of the century and is still asleep today ... in a alley behind a supermarket in Italy, under a cardboard box and covered with newspapers. He's Rome's most famous homeless man, has been blessed by the pope, and pilgrims come daily to pay homage and take pictures.

Niou Masaharu and Yagyuu Hiroshi are still bumming around The Library since Niou is rather sure Fuji isn't that happy with them. They delight in talking to Shishido about their sexual exploits, and have even demonstrated a few positions Ohtori has been curious about after reading the replaced books. They have tentative plans to move into a nice little place in Purgatory sometime next century.

Mukahi Gakuto and Oshitari Yuushi have made themselves reasonably scarce (or reasonably anonymous) after having been caught having sex on Fuji's bed during the final battle by Dan and a reluctant Kaidou. They're not sure exactly why they're creeping around in a state of suspense, but it makes for good sex, so they aren't knocking it.

Fuji Syuusuke is happily running Hell his way. He's decided that seducing Tezuka can wait another millennium or so and is currently pursuing Atobe, who he sees as an easier target. Currently he is racking up huge tabs on flowers, bills that will make Yagyuu cry when he comes back. He has located Yuuta's current incarnation, and since he's not into pedophilia, is waiting a decade or two before messing with him.

Akutsu Jin is sitting around in Purgatory, manning Sengoku's office as he has done practically since the day he first fell and then decided to rise (not three weeks later). With Sengoku and Kirihara running around on earth, he's been left in complete control of Purgatory, which under his rule has become a pretty good place to be ... a place where you can put your feet up, smoke a smoke, and laugh at that boss who thought he could tell you what to do. Every businessman wants to die and go there.

A group of divine secretaries has formed a support group. Led by Kabaji Munehiro, they meet every Thursday in Purgatory for poker games and to gripe about their bosses. Hiyoshi Wakashi, Momoshiro Takeshi, Jackal Kuwahara, Kaidou Kaoru and Akutsu Jin are all regular attendants. Akutsu usually wins, but not even the other demons have figured out how he's cheating. 

Sengoku Kiyosumi decided to ditch Purgatory one day on the theory that there was too much, yanno, work. Naturally, Kirihara Akaya wasn't going to let him dump it all on him and declared that somewhere had the watch the moron before chasing after him. They're somewhere on earth, mostly incognito (Kirihara has a problem with subtlety and Sengoku has a problem about NOT egging him on), causing havoc or miracles at their discretion while having more incredible sex than two beings should be allowed to have. 


End file.
